That girl, that slut, that Celeste, didn’t even have the grace to blush at the reminder of the disgraceful scene in the conservatory. She just opened her hazel eyes wide and said, “I feel that way too.” Taking Valda’s arm, she squeezed it in a comradely manner.
Valda wanted to pull her arm away and snap out an insult. But that didn’t fit her role of benevolent family friend, and if ever a family had been rich in international information, it was the Throckmortons. They had made spying a tradition, and she hoped to extract another nugget from young Throckmorton this very night.
He thwarted her with another bow. “If you don’t mind, my lady, I’ll leave Celeste in your care. I’ve had a messenger arrive with news of great importance for my, er, my import business, and I must speak with him at once.”
Valda wanted to shake off Celeste like a flea. Instead she brandished an admonishing finger at young Throckmorton. “What’s up, dear boy? If this is an investment opportunity, you should tell your dear friends Lord and Lady Featherstonebaugh.”
“Not exactly an investment opportunity.” He tugged at his collar. “Rather, we’ve suffered great losses from the deprecations of, er, rats, and I have been told we’ve discovered who the main breeding rats are. If you’ll excuse me.”
Valda stared after him as he strode toward his office. A rat? Was that code? Was he talking about them? About her? Surely not. She wasn’t a small, furry, disgusting rodent. She was a wolf—and a wolf who had better discover, and immediately, what was happening in that office.
She turned to Celeste, who was still smiling that inane smile. “I know you don’t want to care for a silly old woman when you could be dancing.”
Celeste blinked. “Oh, Lady Featherstonebaugh, I most definitely enjoy getting to know an old and honored guest.”
The little bitch had definitely emphasized the word old. Valda’s hand twitched. She wanted to slap Celeste.
As revenge for Celeste’s insolence, Valda caught her husband’s eye. She snapped her chin up.
He scuttled across the dance floor to them.
To Celeste, she said, “You are too kind to me, my dear.” She placed Celeste’s hand on Rupert’s arm. “Our lovely young hostess is without a partner.”
Rupert couldn’t believe his good luck. He’d been trying to get his paws on the new Mrs. Throckmorton since the first time he’d seen her, back when she was newly returned from Paris and flaunting her seductiveness in front of any man who showed interest. Now he wiggled his eyebrows, bowed, and led her onto the floor.
Valda stayed long enough to see that they were well and truly occupied, then she made her way to Throckmorton’s office.
A voice came from the antechamber. Throckmorton’s voice, raised in loud disbelief. “This is outrageous. I don’t believe it. Who made this accusation?”
Valda strained to hear as another voice, low and indistinct, answered.
“I assure you, he hasn’t the intelligence to fool me for so long,” Throckmorton proclaimed.
Valda took a long, silent breath. Clutched at her silk-covered chest.
The low voice answered again.
Valda crept closer.
“How likely is that? She’s old.” Throckmorton sounded as if he were sneering. “Furthermore, they are revered Throckmorton family friends!”
Valda had heard enough. They were talking about Rupert . . . and her. Before long, Throckmorton would be convinced, and she . . . she would be dancing at the end of a silk rope.
She walked away from the door toward the ballroom. Once there, she swept the room with her gaze. The old fool, Rupert, was standing off to the side by himself, clutching his hand as if he were in pain.
Apparently, young Celeste had not been amenable to his groping.
Valda glared at him, caught his eye, and again jerked her chin. She watched as he tottered toward her, a bony, long-chinned, disreputable old man who she longed to leave behind. But as always, he hung around her neck, a burden dragging her down.
He knew too much. He scared too easily. He had to go with her . . . back to the Lake District and Maitland Manor. Back to the place where she’d hidden their cache of gold and jewels.
Once there, she would set their escape plan in motion, and they would disappear from England.
She rubbed her aching hip. If only she were still young enough to enjoy the adventure.
Chapter Seven
“Those children are monsters.”
“Aye, miss.”
“I treat them with respect, and all I want in return is a little respect for myself.”
“Aye, miss.”
“Yet they continue to sulk, to refuse to cooperate, and to pretend they don’t understand their lessons when I know very well that they do.”
“Could be worse, miss.”
Samantha raised her drooping head and stared at Clarinda. “How could it be worse?”
“Fer Miss Ives, two governesses ago, they filled a bag with manure, lit it on fire, and put it by her desk, and when the governess tried t’ stomp it out—”
Samantha lifted her hand to stop Clarinda’s recitation. She sat in her bedchamber, the room that had become her refuge, taking her luncheon on a tray while the children took their luncheon in the schoolroom under the supervision of their nursemaids. Her own cowardice shamed her, but after four days she was bone-tired and for the first time in her career, unsure how to proceed in the face of such unending hostility. “How do they get away with such tricks? Is everyone in the household in on their pranks?”
“In a manner o’ speaking, miss. They get more attention from their father when they’ve got no governess, and that’s why they misbehave. Not that ye heard me say so. So we . . . help them along sometimes. Especially the nursemaids. They’ve got a bit of power now, and ‘tis going t’ their heads. Not that ye heard me say that, either.” Clarinda put the fork into Samantha’s hand. “Ye’d best eat, miss, ye’ll need yer strength.”
After she had eaten, Samantha climbed the stairs to the classroom on the third floor as she considered the information Clarinda had given her. No wonder she had failed to charm the girls. They had been aided and abetted in their defiance by their nursemaids and, indeed, by the whole staff, and if Samantha were going to succeed she would have to take drastic action.
She had to get the girls away from the house. Away from any support.
She heard the girls’ animated chatter before she opened the door, but they quieted at once and turned eager faces toward her.
Perhaps, while she had been resolving to fix the problems of her situation, the children had been realizing how unkind they had been and deciding to do better.
She smiled at them.
They smiled back.
“I hope you had a pleasant lunch,” she said.
In unison, they replied, “Yes, Miss Prendregast.”
“We’ll study our mathematics now.” They really were chipper. A niggle of unease crept up Samantha’s spine, and she considered them with misgivings. “If you would get out your books—” She opened her desk, and looked down into the drawer.
A mass of green snakes slithered in every direction, but mostly—toward her. She’d never seen a snake in her life. Hoped never to see one. But she knew what they were. Blinded by panic, by the image of those flickering tongues, the smooth scales, and those lidless black eyes, she screamed.
The children hooted in derision.
The snakes dropped onto the floor, writhed across her desk, glided over her chair.
She shouted, “Ruddy ‘ell!” The children. Dear God, the snakes were going to bite the children. Gathering her courage, she ran to Kyla and Emmeline, grabbed them around the waists, and carried them out into the corridor. Heart pounding, she placed them on the floor and ran back for the others.
They’d stopped laughing.
“Come on!” She gestured frantically. “Before they bite you.”
Agnes stood up at her desk and in a tone of withering scorn, said, “They’re just gras
s snakes. Don’t you know a grass snake when you see one?”
One of the dreadful creatures slithered across the floor right between Samantha and the children, and she took a running leap over it. Grasping Henrietta by the arm, she said, “Come on.”
“They’re just grass snakes,” Agnes said again.
“I don’t like this anymore.” Henrietta came with Samantha out in the corridor.
The two younger children stood wide-eyed.
The other children traipsed out of the classroom now and joined them.
“They’re grass snakes.” But Agnes had realized she’d gone too far, and her defiance turned to open hostility.
Samantha led them to their bedchamber and found a gathering of nursemaids waiting for them. When she stepped through the door, the merry talk stopped, and they looked so guilty Samantha knew the information Clarinda had given her was correct. These maids had egged the children on. In a tone so quiet they had to strain to hear her speak, she commanded, “Get them dressed for a walk. I’ll be back to fetch them soon. And you”—she looked at each one of the six maids—“all of you. Make sure the snakes, every last one of them, are removed from the classroom before we return.”
The quieter she spoke, the angrier she was, and they must have realized the depths of her rage, for the nursemaids nodded and scurried to do her bidding.
Samantha stalked to her bedchamber. She looked out her window where the sun had broken through the clouds at last. She smiled evilly. Standing, she divested herself of her mauve gown, changed into her green serge and sturdy walking shoes, then went back for the children. She found them alone together, huddled on the floor of their bedchamber, whispering to one another. Samantha pretended not to notice. She clapped her hands to get their attention. “Come, girls. Let’s go walking.”
Six faces turned her direction. “Why?” Agnes asked.
“So you can tell me what you know. I’ve been boring you with things you’ve already been taught. That has to change.”
“We’re supposed to study now,” Mara said.
“We’re getting to know each other.” Samantha glanced out the window. “The sun is shining, but if you’d rather stay inside . . .”
Emmeline leaped up and ran to Samantha. Kyla followed. The others rose more slowly, and viewed Samantha with suspicion. Agnes and Vivian exchanged glances. Henrietta and Mara nodded knowingly. They’d had time to regroup. To replot their defenses. She could hardly wait to see what scheme they’d cooked up now, nor did she doubt she could counter it.
She shuddered. As long as it didn’t involve snakes.
Everything in the Gregory household was about to change. Turning toward the door, she said, “This is the first sunny day since I arrived, and I’ve seen little of the country. You can show me your favorite haunts.”
Agnes clapped her hands. “Let’s show her the rope bridge!”
“Yay!” the others cried. Even Emmeline and Kyla laughed and jumped up and down.
“That sounds wonderful,” Samantha said. That sounds fishy. Or terrifying. A rope bridge. Over a canyon, no doubt, where they hoped she’d fall to her death.
She saw Emmeline’s and Kyla’s shining eyes, and corrected herself. Where they would jiggle the rope and frighten her.
“I have my bonnet and gloves.” She showed them. “Get yours.”
They rushed to comply.
Their hats were as ugly as their gowns, and their gloves were . . . well, at least half of them were missing.
Samantha stood with her hands on her hips. “It’s good to see you girls are average.”
Agnes’s head whipped around. “What do you mean?”
“You lose your gloves. You like to play outside. You remind me of my other charges.”
“Well, you don’t remind me of our other governesses. They were smart,” Agnes snapped.
“They couldn’t have been too smart or they’d still be here and I’d be in London.” A fate to be devoutly desired. “Vivian, where are your old boots?” By the time she had Mara fitted in Vivian’s footwear, everyone was ready to go, and Samantha held the door. “Come on. Step briskly!”
The children lined up like little soldiers, Kyla in the front and in size stair-stepping up to Agnes. Then they marched out, their arms swinging, their heels tapping. Suffering in equal parts amazement and amusement, Samantha followed down the stairs, through the lofty foyer, and to the back entrance—and that entrance was grand enough to warn Samantha of the elegance that awaited her.
A footman opened the double doors. The children stepped out onto the broad veranda that ran the length of the manor. Samantha followed them and, for the first time, a great panorama opened up before her gaze, filling her eyes, her mind, overwhelming her senses. Her jaw dropped and, stunned, she walked to the broad stone railing and gripped it hard.
She had known it was here. She’d even seen parts of it on the day she arrived. But from the veranda, everything seemed so . . . big. The sunny swathe of scythed lawn sloped down to a sprawling, azure lake. The still water mirrored the peaks that rose in gray crags and dips of pale stone and emerald meadow. Here and there in the depths of shadow drifts of snow lingered, even in the heat of the summer, and in the lower reaches, stands of ash, elm and hazel stood together like noble soldiers awaiting battle. Birds—huge birds—floated in lazy circles in the blue sky.
Overcome, Samantha covered her mouth with her hand.
Emmeline tugged at her other hand. “Miss Prendregast, why do you look so funny?”
“I . . . just . . . I’ve never seen anything like this. It’s so . . . wild. And . . . horrifying.”
Agnes strutted forward. “I’ll tell Father you said so. He loves the mountains above all else.”
Samantha tore her gaze away from the vista to look Agnes in the eyes. “Your Father already knows what I think about the wilderness. I told him.”
“You . . . did . . . not.” Agnes was wide-eyed and incredulous. “No one tells Father things he doesn’t want to hear.”
“I do.” Samantha surveyed the veranda made of polished granite, with chairs and tables placed here and there below broad canvas sunshades. “This looks very comfortable. Why don’t we stay here?”
“No! No!” Henrietta jumped up and down, fists clenched. “We want to take you to the m—”
Vivian slapped her hand across Henrietta’s mouth. “To the rope bridge. We want to take you to the rope bridge.”
Samantha looked from one to the other, then around at all the girls. “To the rope bridge?”
They nodded in unison.
“Then certainly to the rope bridge we must go.” Samantha gestured to Agnes. “Lead on, Macduff.”
They took the stone path that curved along the lake, then left it behind and led into the trees. The oak trees were at first part of the park, with smooth lawns beneath them and benches placed here and there for a walker’s comfort. But soon the children veered off into a wilder part, clambering over drystone walls, strolling along dirt paths worn into a wildflower meadow.
Samantha slowed. “Are we still on your father’s land?”
Agnes turned to face her. “Why?”
“Because your father requested that we remain on his estate.”
“Why didn’t you tell Father you didn’t want to?” Agnes asked snidely.
“Because I do want to. I want to remain safe, and I intend that you should be, too.” She held Agnes’s gaze until Agnes looked away.
The ground rose beneath their feet. They walked around puddles and through patches of underbrush. In the steep parts, Agnes had to help Kyla, and Vivian helped Emmeline.
Agnes took a moment to glance back at Samantha. “Are you able to walk so far, Miss Prendregast?”
“Even though I am quite advanced in years, I find I am managing tolerably.”
Agnes caught Samantha’s dry tone, although Samantha doubted the others did, and shot her a first shocked, then malicious look.
Oblivious, Mara offered her hand. “I??
?ll help you, Miss Prendregast.”
Samantha took it and delighted in the trusting way the little fingers curled in hers.
“It’s not far,” Mara assured her.
The rope bridge was just what they said, a bridge made of thick rope knotted around slats to form the narrow footpath. Here there were no trees, only a few tufts of grass surrounding a hollow over which the sagging bridge crossed. Black, thick, oozing mud filled the hollow. The ends of the bridge were looped over stakes driven into the ground.
There were no handrails. Naturally.
Agnes stood with her hands on her hips and challenged Samantha. “I wager you’re afraid to cross that.”
Samantha had to play this very carefully. The others were children, credulous in the way of most children. Agnes, however, stood on the cusp of adolescence, and she had been in charge of their successful little rebellion for too long. Samantha leaned over, grasped the rope, and flipped it. The bridge rose and fell in a wave. She made a show of looking into the hollow. She backed up and shook her head. “I’m afraid.”
Agnes looked startled. “You’re . . . afraid? None of the other governesses have been afraid.”
“I’ve never been out of London before. I’ve never crossed a bridge like this. It’s too difficult.”
Vivian frowned. “No. No, it’s not. It’s easy!”
Samantha put one foot on the bridge.
The children looked delighted.
Samantha pulled her foot back. “It’s too hard.” She waved her hand. “This place is wild. I want to go back to the house.”
Henrietta took the bait first. She ran out into the middle and bounced up and down. “Look. It’s fun!”
“Be careful!” Samantha injected the right amount of concern into her voice.
“She’s not going to fall,” Agnes assured her. “She’ll come back, and you can cross.”
“I’m too heavy. The bridge might break,” Samantha said.
“Look!” Vivian walked out, wrapped her arms around Henrietta’s waist, and they both jumped up and down.