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Loving a Mysterious Governess
A REGENCY ROMANCE NOVEL
ARIA NORTON
Copyright © 2024 by Aria Norton
All Rights Reserved.
This book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form without the written permission of the publisher.
In no way is it legal to reproduce, duplicate, or transmit any part of this document in either electronic means or in printed
format. Recording of this publication is strictly prohibited and any storage of this document is not allowed unless with written
permission from the publisher.

Table of Contents
Table of Contents
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Epilogue
Blossoming into a Lady
Introduction
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
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Introduction
Katherine Galloway, grieving her father's death, faces further distress when her brother insists on her wedding with an affluent,
elderly baronet to preserve the family wealth. Desperate to escape this horrible fate, she assumes a new identity and becomes
the governess to two orphaned girls at an ancient manor on the wild north moors. To her surprise, she finds herself increasingly
drawn to their reserved and austere guardian, the Marquess of Midland.
Can Katherine discover love as a humble governess living under a concealed identity?
William, the Marquess of Midland, finds himself guardian to his two young nieces following a family tragedy. Distant and
withdrawn from society, William fights against his mother’s desire to have him marry a local beauty. Little did he know that the
arrival of the new governess would spark an immediate interest and attraction within him. Yet, he understands that pursuing her,
given her lowly status, would defy societal norms or cause scandal.
Will he reject convention and allow this forbidden romance to turn his life upside down?
In the moments they share, William and Katherine sense an undeniable, blossoming connection that slowly warms their
troubled souls. The rules of society, though, look certain to extinguish this fragile bond. As snow clouds gather, rumors of a
mysterious stranger arriving in the village spread. Could the shadow of Katherine’s past reach as far as this remote landscape?
Will Katherine and William defy opposition, conquer the evil gathering around them, and find an everlasting love?
Chapter 1
“You will marry Sir Jason Protheroe. The arrangements are made, and if you refuse, then, my dear sister, you will be destitute.”
Katherine stared in disbelief at the arrogant man standing in front of her. If he didn’t have power over her fortune, she would
laugh in his face. James Galloway, her brother, looked ridiculous in his red coat. He was no longer in the army but insisted on
wearing his uniform at all times.
It was getting a little tight for him, too, she thought. What a pompous oaf.
What should she do? Agree to the marriage and reduce James’ controlling surveillance, or stand her ground and continue to
refuse to marry?
She glanced at a miniature painting of her dear papa on the walnut writing table.
This is my home. Papa and I came here when he left Cambridge; we spent so many happy evenings reading together by the
fire.
In her reticule was the letter that had arrived two days ago, which provided an escape route. Her breathing eased as she
considered the offer of a governess position in the north country.
“James, I object to you arranging a marriage for me without having the courtesy to even mention it to me.” she protested. “You
tell me I am betrothed to Sir Jason Protheroe, a baronet thirty years older than me. He is, I believe, even older than our father,”
she added through gritted teeth.
Katherine may have been petite, but her feisty personality made up for this. She raised her chin and stood her ground, looking
directly into her brother’s eyes. He looked away, unable to look her in the face.
“I am your legal trustee, and if you do not follow my instructions, then I will ensure that you will be penniless.”
“It is dreadful that a man can treat a woman, who is of age, in this controlling and condescending manner,” Katherine snapped
back, her blue eyes burning with anger.
“Come, come, my dear. All you need to do is marry Protheroe and keep him happy for a few years,” he implored. “His
settlement for you is generous and will pay for the repairs on our property and provide me with a commission in the militia.”
He banged his glass down on the table. “Katherine, you have to see reason. This marriage is the answer to all our family
difficulties.”
She reached behind her for the corner of the bookcase. I am to marry a man I cannot bear because you want a country estate
and a commission in the army. Have you no consideration for my future? she thought in frustration.
“Protheroe has connections and £20,000 a year. This house was never suitable lodgings for our family. It was necessary to rent
out our country estate at Fairbury House, but your marriage to Protheroe means we can reclaim our ancestral home and live the
life of the ton again.”
He turned away from Katherine and poured himself another glass of cognac from the crystal decanter before continuing.
“In my opinion father should never have been persuaded to let Fairbury House. If I had been home, it would never have
happened,” James concluded with arrogance.
“You know very well that Father had no choice. Our financial situation was precarious, and the only option was to move to
town,” Katherine replied, holding back tears. “We could live here comfortably, with an income from renting Fairbury House.
The decision was not taken lightly.”
“He was badly advised,” snarled James. “However, your marriage means the family will be secure, and we can hold our heads
high in society once more.”
“You are quite despicable,” retorted Katherine. “It is clear that you are arranging this match to support your own financial
future. You mean that your future will be secure. You care not what happens to me,” she shuddered, unable to look at James.
She stared at the still-life oil painting on the wall immediately behind him. There was more life in the fruit and flowers, caught
in a moment in time, than in her brother. He was so full of his own schemes that he lacked all compassion.
How could James look so like her beloved father and be so different in character? James Galloway enjoyed using his height to
intimidate others. He kept his dark brown hair in an army cut and didn’t hold with fashion. His angular features, pale blue eyes,
and impeccable manners disguised a manipulative, controlling personality. He was not yet thirty, but his attitude to life gave the
impression of being in his mid-forties.
Katherine took a deep breath, cold air clearing her head, and made a split-second decision to pretend to capitulate and agree to
the plan. The monotonous drone of James’ voice, imploring her to marry Protheroe, had persisted most of the day; even when
he stopped talking, she could still hear him resonating in her head.
Katherine had an uncanny ability for solving problems with a practical and resourceful approach.
She needed some quiet time to think about how to put her escape plan into action. She would leave London and disappear
without a trace.
She lowered her eyes and took a seat on the worn velvet-covered settee, making her tight fingers relax into the velvet. She
needed to convince James she had experienced a change of heart, which would be tricky.
“You say that if I marry Sir Jason, our country estate will return to the family?” questioned Katherine.
“That, sister, is what I have been trying to tell you all week,” said James, looking at Katherine with loathing.
“And all father’s debts will be settled?” she continued.
“Easily, the marriage settlement is very generous,” he added, with irritation that his sister seemed unable to understand the
necessity to marry. He blamed their father, who had encouraged her to have an independent and inquisitive mind.
“Very well.” Katherine paused and looked James directly in the eye. She needed to keep her nerve, swallowing the lump in her
throat, knowing she had to convince James she was sincere in this change of heart.
“I will marry Sir Jason Protheroe a week on Saturday,” she said quietly.
“However,” she continued, “I insist that some of the settlement is placed in a trust in my name, accessible only by me.” She
took another breath to steady her racing pulse. “If I am to marry a portly, elderly gentleman, whom I have never met, then I
demand that I have a financial settlement which benefits me.”
James looked confused. He was unsure how to respond. On the face of it this was a victory, as Katherine was agreeing to
marry Protheroe. However, he was reluctant to lose control of any of the financial settlement.
“It is up to you, James,” continued Katherine with firm resolve. “Those are my conditions for marrying Protheroe, and if you
agree, I shall instruct Mr Clayton, Papa’s solicitor, to set up a trust accessible only by me.”
“Very well,” agreed James with obvious reluctance. “I am seriously unhappy with your attitude and demands, but, in the
circumstances, I will agree to those terms.”
Soon after, James went to his own room, and she heard him snoring. He had been drinking heavily all day, and she doubted
anything would wake him.
Time to pack more of her belongings and prepare to leave London. She had started to pack that morning but accomplished little.
Her maid, Alice, brought her hot tea, bread, cheese, and some cold cuts of ham. She had hardly eaten for two days, while
James had continually bullied her into agreeing to marry the odious Sir Jason Protheroe.
Katherine began to sort through a box of keepsakes, trying to decide on the few possessions to take with her. She found a length
of exquisite Flemish lace belonging to her grandmother. She caught her breath when Mama’s moonstone necklace and earrings
fell out of the lace onto the table. Even on this dull, cloudy day, they were luminous in the light. She would treasure these
memories of happier times as she created a new future.
“Oh, Miss, this is a sad day,” whispered Alice. “I’ve done what you said and packed my own bag, ready to leave. Thank you
for arranging work for me in your friend’s household.” Alice began to cry. “I wish things were different,” she sobbed.
Katherine gently patted her arm. “We have to do the best we can, Alice. I need to know you are safe from James’ anger when he
discovers I have gone, and you will find your new employer is a kind person,” Katherine reassured her.
Alice sniffed and attempted a smile. “Now, Miss, you need to let me pack your things. I know what you will need, and it will
be quicker if you let me do it.”
Within the hour, Katherine’s two portmanteaus were packed with the essentials she would need in her new life. They would
leave in the morning.
Later, in the dark, she lay awake, unable to sleep. There was no noise except the reassuring snores from James’ room.
Oh, Father, I miss you so much.

James’ return to England, so soon after her father’s death, had meant that she had little opportunity to mourn. How she wished
for one more happy evening sitting by the fire with her papa reading Mr Henry Fielding’s novel together. The adventures of
Tom Jones had made them laugh. Ironically, the heroine, Sophia, runs away from home to escape an arranged marriage.
Her father, a scholar, had passed on his love of learning, and Katherine was accomplished in literature, languages, and history.
Her dear mama had passed on her knowledge of music and art. The gift of learning from her parents would give her a means of
escape.
She sat in front of the small hearth in her bedroom, feeling the warmth of the fire on her toes, took the letter from her reticule,
and read it again.
Was she making the right decision?
She had been grappling with this since the letter offering her the position arrived two days ago. It was hard to leave the place
she had spent so many comfortable days with her father.
She had secured a position as a governess in the distant north, far enough away to be safe from James’ scheming control. Now
she had the means to build a new life under a new identity. She had been given an escape route and could seize it and travel
into the unknown.
She would never submit to a marriage with Sir Jason Protheroe.

Chapter 2
Midland Manor, Easingfield, Yorkshire
“Well, William, have you given any further thought to this need for a mother for the girls?” asked his mother, Constance, Lady
Midland, her blonde hair pinned into an elaborate style that showed her chiselled features to best advantage. She was one of
the most classically beautiful women in the ton, and despite the trauma of losing her daughter, she had not lost her looks.
“No, ma’am, I have been somewhat preoccupied with estate administration.” Desiring a suitable stepmother for his nieces,
William Ashton, Marquess of Midland had entertained the notion of remarrying. However, none of the ladies paraded before
him by his mother seemed to capture his interest.
William often gave the impression of being somewhat aloof, a little guarded with others until he knew them well. Of average
height, he gave those meeting him for the first time the impression of being taller. It was something about how he held himself,
physically strong, with the innate confidence of a handsome marquess.
But he had closed off emotionally following the death of his wife and then the devastating death of his sister Elizabeth.
“There is any number of suitable young ladies in the neighbourhood. It is time you married and gave your nieces a mother,” his
mother was fond of reminding him.
William turned away abruptly. “You mean well, Mother, so I forgive you. But even if I marry, I fear nothing will replace their
mother’s love and care.”
“There is also the matter of an heir to this estate,” persisted his mother, her piercing blue eyes, which William had inherited,
holding his attention.
“Mama, you have, over the last three years, paraded a host of ladies before me. I have, of course, noticed the fair charms of
numerous guests at the house parties you have organised. I have dined, danced, and talked with all of them, and I am as far from
remarrying as I was when you started this campaign to marry me off.”
“I have tried to introduce you to suitable ladies, and you have thwarted me at every turn,” she replied, frustrated.
“An old widower like me could not fail to notice their beauty, but I have no desire for marriage.” He dragged his hands through
his fair hair.
William studiously avoided his mother’s penetrating gaze. She was undeterred.
“So you haven’t given any further thought to my suggestion of a governess either?” she asked, wrapping her fan sharply on the
Chippendale side table.
“No, Mother, as I said earlier, I have been preoccupied with urgent matters on the estate.”
Lady Midland refused to hear any more excuses. “Nonsense, William, the girls need consistency, and you have delayed this
matter long enough. They lost their father to a sudden fever; in fact, I doubt they even remember him. Elizabeth never really
recovered after his death. That’s when she took to galloping across the countryside recklessly.”
He took a deep breath, aware that he usually managed to avoid this particular conversation. His mother’s words cut into a deep
wound, and the pain at the memory of his sister’s death only intensified over time.
“Mother, please, stop there.” Even now, the emotion made the words stick in his throat. Intense guilt struck him, as it did
whenever his sister’s name was mentioned.
While his mother requested tea and asked for the fire to be banked up, William’s thoughts drifted to the tragic event that had
brought his nieces to live at Midland Manor. Their mother, his vivacious sister, so full of life, dead after her horse refused to
jump a hedge, reared, and threw her, breaking her neck.
His lovely, bright sister, mother to two tiny little girls orphaned in a moment.
Memories flooded in. If only he could change the events of that bright spring morning. He had been engrossed in the estate
accounts, annoyed at the knock on the door breaking his concentration. His mother stood there, drained of colour, tears
streaming down her face.
“Elizabeth,” she stammered. “There has been an accident. She took a fall from Misty at that hedge where the meadow meets the
river. We must go now.”
As they raced to the meadow, they saw a group standing silently, staring at a body lying on the ground. He took his mother’s
arm and guided her towards the scene of the accident. The way his mother kneeled beside Elizabeth, trying to revive her with
smelling salts. She lay unresponsive and motionless, and he knew his once vibrant sister was gravely injured.
“They said not to move her, ma’am,” said Giles, the groom. “We’ve sent for the physician.”
Despite knowing his sister had gone, William hoped against hope that she would revive. The physician examined Elizabeth,
and, after an agonizing pause, he looked at William and shook his head. “I’m sorry, My Lord, Your Ladyship, but she is gone. I
believe her death was instantaneous as her neck is broken.” He closed Elizabeth’s eyes and bowed his head.
Time stopped for William then, and he had lived with a weight of guilt since that day. The physician’s words hit him like a
sledgehammer, propelling him into a new reality. He had given Elizabeth the horse as a gift for her birthday only six months
ago. He was indirectly responsible for this tragedy. He felt despair and guilt as he saw the faces of his poor motherless nieces.
He nodded his thanks to the physician and turned to support his mother. A keening wail rose into the air as Lady Midland sank
to her knees on the wet grass, beginning the long process of mourning for her daughter.
“Run to the house, Giles, fetch my mother’s maid, and tell Mr Crabtree to prepare a warm fire and hot tea.”
Engulfed in the depths of despair, he knew that tea would not help his mother’s grief, but he was unsure what else to do in this
new reality they were living in.
“Mother, come away. We can do no more.”

“No, William, I will not leave my baby. I will stay with my dear girl until they carry her home.”
I will shield myself and my family from experiencing such profound pain in the future. We will live through this as a family,
he thought.
He looked at his sister’s face, already resembling an effigy on a stone tomb more than a lively mother, daughter, and sister. I
vow to protect Elizabeth’s children from having to live through such pain again.
William had given his nieces a home and taken his guardianship seriously. They had the resilience of children and in the months
after, “Is Mama an angel now?” he had heard them asking his mother.
“She always was an angel, my dears, and still is, even though she is no longer here with us,” she would reply with tears in her
eyes.
William, lost in memories, was abruptly brought back to the present by his mother proclaiming she had taken matters into her
own hands. Her strident voice broke into his thoughts.
“I have engaged a governess; she comes highly recommended and will join the household later this week,” his mother
declared.
“Mother, you did wrong. This is unacceptable interference.”
“The girls need consistency and an education. You, my boy, show no signs of remarrying and bringing them a new mother. This
situation cannot continue, so I have taken matters into my own hands and found a governess. If and when you marry, we can
review the situation. You take little notice of your adopted daughters. You are never here at Midland, and you scarcely have a
conversation with them when you are here. This cannot continue.”
He felt a pang of guilt. Try as he might he felt a reservation with his nieces, a reluctance to become close to them.
“I am glad to be here for them, but I cannot provide the education they need. A governess. They need a governess, and my
granddaughters will have one. I will brook no interference.” His mother was adamant.
“Dash it all, Mother. You have gone too far with this plan.”
“I am determined, William. If you refuse to consider marrying, then there needs to be a different solution … Miss Walters will
arrive later this week.”
Chapter 3
As the embers in the hearth faded, Katherine stood, looking around her bedchamber, ready to embark on the journey to a new
life in the north. Tomorrow she would evade marriage to the elderly Sir Jason Protheroe and find refuge by using her talents
and becoming a governess.
Papa was gone, and she refused to consent to her brother’s scheme to force her into marriage for his own financial gain.
Just over a month ago, when James returned, she had realized that life in a household ruled by him would be intolerable.
While talking with her friend, Lydia, Lady Tranmere, a plan had begun to form to help her escape from the nightmare of living
under her brother's control. She had the skills to become a governess or companion. When it became clear she was expected to
marry Protheroe, her friend, Lydia, widened the search to find Katherine a position urgently.
“I’ve found you a position,” disclosed Lydia one day. “The letter arrived this morning. Here, read it,” and she pushed the letter
into Katherine’s hands.
“Truly? That is tremendous news. James is arranging for a special licence so my marriage can take place within weeks.”
“Look here, a letter from a friend of my mother’s who is looking for a governess for two little girls. My mother can vouch for
her friend, so you will be safe and well-treated.”
“I don’t know what to say?” Katherine’s voice faltered. “I could not bear the thought of marriage to that man.”
Tears filled Lydia’s eyes. “The sadness for me is that I will miss you so very much, my friend. The position is in the North
Riding of Yorkshire, on a remote moorland estate.” Lydia grasped her friend's hand. “I know you will be safe there, Katherine,
and that’s what’s important.”
Since then, Lydia had written to confirm her acceptance of the position and booked her a place on the stagecoach to York.
There would be no tracks for James to follow once she had escaped.
The morning of her departure, Katherine managed to avoid her brother, James, until he came to inform her he was visiting the
solicitor’s office to make arrangements for the trust she was specifying as a condition of the marriage.
Katherine sensed the barely suppressed anger in the way he spoke to her. It did seem, however, that he was complying with her
request.
“I still think this is a ridiculous proposition, Katherine. I am seriously displeased with your attitude, but if this is what it takes
to get you to the altar, then I will make the arrangements.” James almost spat the words out.
Of all the conceited, arrogant … she thought. He is displeased with me. She wanted to tell him exactly what she thought, but
her plan needed her to play the convincing part of a reluctantly compliant sister.
“Thank you, James. I can see this is inconvenient for you, but it is necessary for me to have this security before I commit to
marrying this elderly man,” she responded with calm determination.
“I will return later this afternoon. You will not leave or go anywhere while I am out. Do I make myself clear?” he instructed,
enjoying the role of jailer.
“Of course, James. I had no plans to go out today anyway,” Katherine responded politely.
Controlling, despicable man. Oh, Father, why did you have to die? James is a monster I no longer recognise.
Katherine heard the door slam shut behind James. He clearly needed her to know he was unhappy with her behaviour, which
made her smile. He would be even more dissatisfied when he discovered she was gone.
Lydia was providing a carriage and, to Katherine’s intense relief, had found Alice a position in her own household.
Alice came out of the bedroom dragging two portmanteaus. “All is ready, Miss. We can take these downstairs ready for when
Lady Tranmere’s carriage arrives. If your brother returns for any reason, then I’ll tell him these are my bags, but it looks like he
has gone to the solicitor. I think your plan might work, Miss.”
A few minutes later, a slight figure slipped out of the building, a warm woollen cloak wrapped around her body, covering her
dark brown hair. A carriage pulled up, and Alice helped the cloaked figure load her belongings in a matter of seconds.
Katherine held Alice close, tears streaming down both their faces, and it was Alice who pushed Katherine into the carriage.
“You need to go, Miss; it isn’t safe to linger.”
The carriage set off, leaving Alice, a fading figure in the distance. Katherine felt tears streaming down her cheek, and her heart
beat frantically against her chest. She knew she would feel fear until the stagecoach left London for York.
The carriage arrived at the White Hart Coaching Inn, where the driver helped her climb down and transfer her bags to the
Northern stagecoach.
Squashed onto the bench between other passengers, Katherine was glad of the anonymity of the stagecoach. She closed her eyes
to shut out the world, ready to endure twenty hours on the journey to York.
Even sharing a room with strangers overnight at a coaching inn was preferable to remaining a minute longer with her brother
James. When did he become so cold and manipulative? She no longer recognised this man overcome with greed for money
and prestige.
Until the stagecoach lurched off onto the Great North Road towards Stevenage, Katherine kept her bonnet pulled over her face,
her eyes closed and focused on slow, steady breathing. Her head was spinning, and she knew it would be impossible to stand
up, even if she wanted to.
Soon after the journey was underway, she felt a gentle pressure on her arm. Leave me alone, she thought, but the voice was
persistent, and she knew she would have to open her eyes, or they might think she was ill. Her plan needed her to be
anonymous and not draw any attention to herself.
Katherine forced her eyes open and looked around. An older woman in a bright yellow bonnet was pressed into the corner seat
of the bench beside her.
“I thought you were awake.” The woman smiled enthusiastically. “I’m Annie Wilkinson, and your coachman asked me to look
out for you.” Confused momentarily, Katherine realised this must have been her friend, Lydia’s, coachman, and she wished he
hadn’t bothered.
Annie patted Katherine’s hand. “I just wanted you to know you had a friend, my dear.”
Katherine stifled a sob, overcome by the kindness of this intrusive stranger in a yellow bonnet and matching pelisse. She tried
to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Ever since her papa died, she had been stoical and kept focused on what she
needed to do each day. After the immediate grief, she had navigated through the shock of James’ plan to marry her to the elderly
baronet. Now, in a coach, leaving London, the tears flowed.
“It will be fine.” Annie lowered her voice to a whisper. “We are almost out of London, and soon, whoever has caused you such
distress will be a long way behind you.”
Katherine looked around the carriage, seeing everyone else was talking or sleeping. Her conversation with Annie Wilkinson
was confidential.
“I know,” was all she managed to croak.
“Here.” Annie offered her a flask to take a drink.
Katherine took the flask and raised it to her lips. She thought it was water and spluttered when she realized it was fine cognac.
Annie winked at her. “Take another mouthful, my dear; it will help settle you down. We have a long way to travel till
Stevenage.”
The cognac warmed her throat, and she smiled back at her companion, who patted her hand. Unable to stop herself, words
tumbled out.
“My father died last month. We were close, and I miss him so much. My brother returned from abroad and is trying to force me
to marry a man I have never met, who is forty years older than me. We were to be married next Saturday by special licence. My
brother will be angry when he finds I am gone as I believe he is depending on the financial settlement from my marriage.”
“Despicable!” muttered Annie.
“I no longer know my brother. We were close as children, but this is a different person. Perhaps he had a head injury in the
army. He is manipulative, cold, and evil.” She sighed, staring out the window at the passing houses.
“I have obtained a position as governess and will earn my living.” She took a breath, her voice feeling stronger. “That’s my
story, Mrs Wilkinson. It is a boring story about control and manipulation. I have broken free. I believe I am now safe.”
“Of course, you are safe, my dear.” Annie held her arm and looked her directly in the eyes. “You are strong and clearly have a
great deal of intelligence. Your brother is a small-minded person who sounds quite mad to me, and perhaps, as you say, he has
been injured in the war. However, you were not safe near him, and you have a new life ahead of you.”
“Thank you,” mouthed Katherine, feeling a wave of relaxation.
“Have a rest, my dear. I will wake you when we reach Stevenage, and we shall share a room. I know the innkeeper and he will
be fair with us. Might I suggest you say that you are my niece; that way, if your brother ever asks any questions, no one will
recall a young lady travelling alone.”
***
Four days later, the stagecoach arrived at the Black Swan in York. Katherine bid a tearful goodbye to Annie Wilkinson,
promising to write to her and let her know about her life as a governess.
The older woman had been true to her word and looked after Katherine throughout the journey, securing a room at every inn
and rounding on anyone who tried to overcharge them. Her final kindness was to insist that Katherine owed her nothing for the
overnight stays, as it had been a pleasure to have her company.
Now here she was in Coney Street, York, needing to find transport to take her further into the North Riding of Yorkshire.
“There you are, Miss,” said the coachman. “You’ll find one of the carriers’ carts waiting over there will take you out to
Midland Manor. It’s remote but an easy journey at this time of year. If you show them your letter from Lady Midland, you’ll
find someone to take you.”
Katherine Walters climbed onto a carrier’s wagon for the last stage of the journey to Easingfield, and Midland Manor. Miss
Galloway had disappeared, and Miss Walters would live quietly in the wild, moorland landscape of Yorkshire.
Two hours later, Miss Walters, governess to the daughters of the Marquess of Midland, stood at the gates of Midland Manor. A
light breeze fluttered her hair, and she shivered and pulled her woollen cloak around her, looking at the strange treeless hills
surrounding the manor. This new landscape was a long way from the streets of Hampstead.
Katherine had a way of using her education to make a living and felt positive about her future. She knew her knowledge and
skills made her a perfect candidate to teach the two little girls who would be her pupils.
Chapter 4
William gazed out across the valley towards the wild moorland in the distance. At dawn the moors had been covered by a fine
blanket of mist, taking on an ethereal ghostly quality. The heavy, relentless rain of recent weeks had created stunning miniature
waterfalls, plunging down the hillside to join the swollen beck flowing through the valley.
Today, the sun glinted on the water, and the hillside sparkled like diamonds. He could smell the scent of cool, damp earth, and
for William, it was the scent of home.
He reflected that a rainy day on the Yorkshire moors always made him feel in tune with nature. He loved to walk by the river
with the refreshing rain, which the local dialect called mizzle, drenching his face with the softened earth under his feet.
His good friend and cousin Ross, Earl of Grayton, had joined him. They had been up since dawn, watching the mist roll away
from the valley floor. At one point, they had been high enough to look down on the mist pooling below. On a spring morning
like this, he would rather be home at Easingfield than anywhere in Europe.
In the years since his wife Jane had died, William had travelled extensively across the continent. They had spent her last
months in Switzerland so she could breathe in the mountain air and delay the ravages of consumption. It was many years since
Jane had died, and they had only been married for two years, but he occasionally still woke and reached out for her before
realizing, with a heavy heart, that she was gone.
This morning, the air in the valley was refreshing, and now the mist had cleared, they could gallop across the moor. “Let’s go
down to the stream,” suggested William.
“It’s a pleasure to be away from the manor,” said Ross. “I should ride more often. It’s good for the spirits.”
“We used to ride every day when we were younger,” remembered William. Their friendship stretched back to boyhood and a
shared education with a tutor at Midland. Ross was more than a friend; he was almost a brother to William.
“Riding gives that sense of freedom,” agreed Ross. “It’s true it does blow the cobwebs away.”
“And I need to feel that freedom,“ echoed William. “Race you to the bridge,” he challenged.
Ross nodded in agreement, and they sped off towards the valley bottom.
Following a reckless gallop across the moor, startling some of the hardy sheep who lived on the uplands all year long, they
arrived at the bridge. Dismounting, they led their horses to water. William’s chestnut was a magnificent horse, bred for speed,
while Ross preferred a grey horse, which was reliable and steady.
William stood lost in thought, staring at the beck and the mini waterfalls tumbling into it.
“I’ve known you for a lot of years,” said Ross with concern. “Something is on your mind, and it isn’t the usual.”
“It’s Mother,” William sighed. “She is never satisfied, and now she has decided I have to marry and is going to make life
difficult for me until I do.”
Ross laughed. “Billy, she has been trying to pair you off since Jane died. Every week, she has some soirée or house party
where there just happens to be an eligible young lady seeking a rich husband.” Ross paused, raising an eyebrow at William.
“You must have noticed. Poor Constance … to try so hard and waste all that effort!”
“Ross, you are incorrigible.” William laughed, leading his horse back from the beck. “I don’t want to remarry. I don’t regret
marrying Jane, but we were very young, and I’ve never wanted another wife.”
“Jane was a beautiful woman who kept you in order,” Ross joked.
“I don’t disagree,” quipped William. “Mama’s argument is that the girls need a mother, and the only way that will happen is if I
marry.”
“Ah, no pressure there then,” Ross said, smiling.
“Only daily, incessant pressure. It isn’t that I don’t consider the eligible women she parades through Midland Manor. I just
don’t ever take to any of them. I know, Ross, life would be quieter if I did what she wants and married.”
William paused, struggling to express something he found difficult to put into words. “I sometimes wonder … it’s entirely
possible that having lost Jane, and then Elizabeth taking that fall, has made me feel that nothing ever lasts, so what is the point.”
“That’s a profound thought so early in the day,” pondered Ross. “Hard to get close to anyone if you’re convinced they are going
to leave you,” he added wisely, buried memories of his own lost love surfacing for a moment.
“Well, it seems Mama has had enough of my shilly-shallying. She announced yesterday that she had gone behind my back and
engaged a governess for the girls.”
Ross spluttered, “She’s what?”
“She found a governess recommended by one of my mother’s friends. I’m informed she will arrive at some point this week.”
“Billy, you know I don’t like to interfere, especially where my aunt is involved, but she’s overstepped the mark there. She
knows it, too.” He picked up a stone and skimmed it across the beck.
“However, it seems to me that you can play this to your advantage. Now that Constance has engaged a governess, her reason
for parading eligible spinsters no longer exists,” Ross pointed out.
“By Jove, I see what you mean. If Mama has given up on finding me a wife and engaged this governess instead, then she can
hardly keep hosting these dreadful house parties.” William replied, realising Ross was right.
“I am going to say that I can see some potential benefits to having a governess,” mused Ross. “Lottie and Sarah need an
education. Lottie will be ten in the summer, and as your adopted daughters, they deserve the finest teaching. Also, and this is
just my opinion, but after what’s happened to them, with both parents dying, they’d be more secure at home with a governess.”
“I know they need more than Agnes, the nurserymaid,” agreed William. “It just feels like Mama never gives me space to think,
then she gets frustrated when I put the brakes on her plans, and then we argue.”
“It may not be what you want to hear, but I suspect you are still grieving for your sister. You’re no longer uncle but father to
Lottie and Sarah, and with that comes this sort of weighty responsibility. You might have wanted a son, but you have two
delightful, spirited daughters, and they are growing up all too quickly.”
A wave of guilt spread through William as he listened to Ross’s words. The girls had a home, and his mama gave them love in
abundance. He was struck by a sense of increasing unease that he had put a barrier between himself and Elizabeth’s children.
He’d done all the right things, like legally adopting them and giving them a home and family.
But did he show them the kind of fatherly love they needed? If he were honest with himself, then no. Even Ross had an easier,
more carefree, fun relationship with them. The trouble was he didn’t seem able to express that love. He cared for them deeply,
but his relationship with them was formal and rigid.
He shrugged these disquieting thoughts away. The sun was high in the sky, and he needed to get back to the estate business.
“Let’s get back,” he called to Ross. “Race you to the house,” and he set off over the meadow, needing the feel of the cool
morning air on his face.
The manor nestled in a sheltered place farther down the valley, so it was an easy gallop along the track. There had always been
a settlement here; whenever they dug in the ground, they uncovered artefacts from mediaeval or Roman times.
The Manor had been built from the stones of a ruined ancient castle, and he liked to think of his ancestors making a life in this
place through the centuries. Maybe his mother was right, and he ought to consider providing an heir to maintain the link
between the Ashton family and the land.
But why did it have to be a male heir? His daughters were Ashtons, growing up at the manor.
They were nearly back.
There she was, his mother, standing outside the main door, talking to the driver of a carrier’s cart. It took him a second or two
to notice a second cloaked figure. He slowed down and gestured to Ross.
“Looks like the governess has already arrived. I suspect Mama has been plotting to engage a governess for several months. She
mentions this yesterday, and then the governess arrives today.”
They drew near, horses’ hooves clattering on the cobblestones over the bridge across the moat. His mother waved for them to
join her.
“She’s seen us,” said Ross. “No escape now!”
“What luck,” Lady Midland remarked to a young woman standing next to her. “You can meet my son William Ashton, Marquess
of Midland, and his cousin Lord Grayton.” A footman picked up a dusty portmanteau and turned to take it up the stone steps into
the house.
“William, Ross, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Katherine Walters, who is to join us as governess to Sarah and Lottie.” Lady
Midland smiled and gestured towards Katherine.
Looking at the young woman, William thought she must have been travelling for days and looked close to exhaustion. Her face
was pale, framed by dark brown locks that had escaped their pins during the drive from York. She somehow found the energy
to straighten her shoulders and bob a curtsey to acknowledge Ross and himself.
He bowed in return and met a pair of eyes resembling the clearest blue sky on a midsummer’s day. “Miss Walters … A
pleasure to have you join our household. You must have been travelling for days, so I won’t keep you talking out here in the
cold.”
He averted his gaze, looking uneasily around him, pulling himself back onto the solid banks of reality. He had expected the
governess would be an austere, older woman wearing pince-nez glasses.
Why pince-nez? he wondered, except that he had assumed they were obligatory for all governesses. Miss Walters couldn’t
have been more than twenty, a vibrant young woman with a poised manner despite the exhaustion.
Ross was now greeting Miss Walters, and William hoped his lack of composure hadn’t been noticed. Time to get out of here.
Why the deuce hadn’t his mother engaged the usual kind of drab, grey governess who no one ever noticed?
“We must go and tend to the horses,” he muttered, hastily departing for the stables.
Ross smiled and nodded farewell to the ladies before strolling towards the stables. They busied themselves removing the
saddles, tackle, and brushing down the horses. William preferred to do these jobs himself instead of leaving it to the groom.
“The new governess was a surprise,” ventured Ross cautiously. William had been unusually quiet since their encounter with
Miss Walters.
“Hmm,” responded William. “She certainly was. For a moment or two I mistook her for one of those eligible young ladies my
mother invites to the manor.”
“Certainly no grim sourpuss,” Ross remarked, “as so many in that profession become. It must be an inevitable consequence of
having limited means and living between family and servants in a great house,” he added, focusing on removing the stirrups
from his horse.
“I hadn’t thought of it that way,” admitted William. “I am sad to think that Miss Walters will have that fate. She seems so
spirited and appealing for one so young. She must be confident to have travelled alone from London.”
Ross laughed. “She caught your interest. Admit it.”
“Indeed not, my friend. I merely admire any young lady who undertakes that journey alone. It is a gruelling way to travel and
must take four or five days.”
“I’ll ask Aunt Constance what she knows of Miss Walters,” persisted Ross.
‘You will do no such thing. Mother will send the poor girl packing if she thinks she distracts me from the eligible guests. You
must promise me not to seek further details from Mama,” William warned Ross with a smile.
William paused thoughtfully, considering Miss Walters’ intriguing effects on his thoughts. ”As her employer, however, I can ask
certain questions in due course. There is something mysterious about our new arrival …”
Chapter 5
The journey from York to Easingfield took over two hours. The carrier was pleasant, but Katherine struggled to understand the
Yorkshire dialect, and the noise of the wheels bumping along the road made conversation impossible.
She was grateful it was a sunny day, and they made good time.
The countryside grew wilder, with walls built with small stones and sheep in every field. They travelled along the bottom of a
wide valley or dale as the carrier called it, before climbing onto a ridged track on the side of a high hill. Tiny streams
resembling waterfalls cascaded down the hills, and some crossed the road, splashing crystal clear water around the cart.
Curious, weathered stones, like ancient sculptures, stood tall and proud in some of the fields. Any trees were bent in the
direction of the prevailing north wind, and she saw the sheep huddled in the shelter of the stone walls. Yet, on this bright spring
day, she was drawn to the rugged beauty of this landscape.
They turned a corner on the road and there was Midland Manor shining in the sunshine, built of local limestone with an array of
lead-paned windows. Katherine smiled an inner smile of relief at this first view of her new home.
The cart drove up the drive, and Katherine imagined it made a change from grand carriages, which usually arrived at such a
stately home. A more modern grand portico surrounded the front door, and Katherine felt a wave of apprehension and curiosity.
What was she doing here in this remote moorland landscape? Could she be a governess? What made her think she could
succeed at something she had never done before?
Then the door opened, and a footman came down the stone steps to take her bags. He nodded. “How do, miss?” he said in a
thick Yorkshire accent.
She responded with, “Very well, thank you,” and that seemed to be the right thing to say. After a few seconds, an elegant figure
appeared, and Lady Midland descended to greet Katherine.
“Miss Walters, Katherine. Welcome to Midland Manor.” Lady Midland spoke in a deep, contralto voice, which seemed warm
and genuine. The driver helped her down, and she felt a little light-headed, reaching for the side of the cart to steady herself
after hours of swaying continually from side to side.
Lady Midland exuded an elegant, aristocratic presence. Blonde hair, pulled into a simple twisted chignon, with the face of a
classical statue. No one could mistake the lady of the house.
“We have been expecting your arrival, and your charges will be excited to meet you. However, you have had a long journey,
and for now, the priority is a hot bath and some refreshment. How long were you travelling, Miss Walters?”
It was the first time she had heard her new name, and it took a second to adjust.
“Four days, ma’am, Your Ladyship.” She was still too dizzy to bob the usual curtsey and hoped Lady Midland didn’t notice.
At that moment, two men arrived in the courtyard outside the manor, leading their horses. Lady Midland waved them to join
her. “Excellent timing,” she declared.
“William, Ross, I’d like to introduce you to Miss Katherine Walters, who is to join us as governess to Sarah and Lottie,” Lady
Midland said, gesturing to Katherine, who still held the side of the cart.
William, Marquess of Midland, looked towards Katherine, nodding briefly and giving her a perfunctory greeting before
excusing himself to tend to his horse.
What a stern, proud man, she thought. Handsome features, but no warmth in his manner. He clearly didn’t want a
conversation. It is as though I’ve irritated him, but that’s impossible as I’ve only just arrived.
She had to get used to this coldness of manner and disdain as a governess with a strange position between gentlewoman and
servant. The brief acknowledgement and hasty withdrawal of her employer did nothing to ease her anxiety.
She had made her choice, and there was no turning back. She had escaped marrying Protheroe, and that was what was
important. No one had been unpleasant, and she could easily brush off a little brusqueness. Her initial impressions of the
marquess were disappointing, but she reflected that she would hardly ever see him.
“Come inside, we will take tea,” invited Lady Midland, leading her up the steps and into Midland Manor. Echoes rebounded
across the stone-flagged floor as the heavy oak door closed behind them. The hall took her breath away as she took in wood
panelling, sculptures, and a magnificent grand staircase. She glanced at walls covered by paintings of landscapes and portraits
of long-dead ancestors wearing costumes of bygone eras.
This was unexpected grandeur in the middle of a remote moorland wilderness.
Lady Midland led her through the hallway to a drawing room with a lighter, more lived-in appearance. Settling by the fire, she
poured tea, and Katherine felt the hot steamy brew reviving her energy levels.
“When will I meet my pupils,” asked Katherine.
“Certainly not today,” said Lady Midland. “You have been travelling for days and need to rest. They are helping Mrs Parsons,
the housekeeper, bake biscuits. Time enough to meet my granddaughters tomorrow.”
Katherine breathed a sigh of relief. She was unsure how long she could keep her eyes open, let alone make the right impression
on Sarah and Lottie.
“I know you will be eager to begin teaching, but may I suggest you first take time to make a connection and get to know Lottie
and Sarah before introducing formal lessons,” advised Lady Midland.
“They may not have had a governess, but they have been learning from lots of people in the household. Agnes, the nurserymaid,
will tell you all about it. I’d like to continue that approach, so you will never need to have them in the schoolroom the whole
day.”
Lady Midland hesitated before continuing, “Elizabeth, their mother, and my daughter died in a riding accident. It is my belief
that coping with their loss and being happy and confident have to be the priorities.”
They chatted while drinking tea, though, Katherine was aware the questions Lady Midland asked her were specifically aimed
at finding out as much as she could about the new governess, her background, and accomplishments. On that, she had no
concerns, as she knew she was well qualified for this position, and all she needed was for Katherine Galloway to remain
hidden in the past.
As she finished her tea, Lady Midland rang the bell, and Katherine sighed with relief at the sight of a naturally friendly face.
“Katherine, I’d like you to meet our housekeeper, Mrs Parsons.” The housekeeper’s welcoming smile and warm greeting acted
as a comforting antidote to Katherine's anxiety.
Mrs Parsons would put anyone at ease, thought Katherine.
“Now I will leave you with Mrs Parsons to show you your room and help you settle in. I’ll catch up with you tomorrow,” said
Lady Midland, dismissing them.
The clock in the tall cabinet ticked loudly in the silence. As soon as the door closed on Lady Midland, Mrs Parsons relaxed,
her manner changing dramatically.
Emma Parsons was a young woman for a housekeeper, in her mid-thirties, with pleasant features and mid-brown hair tucked
into a housekeeper's white, lace- trimmed cap. She was short-sighted with strong glasses, which probably explained her lack
of success in the marriage market. Her engaging, open manner meant Katherine warmed to her immediately.
“Call me Emma, my dear,” she said, clapping her hands together. “I was delighted to hear her ladyship had engaged you. Those
two little girls need an education, and I have been teaching them reading and arithmetic, but they are not going to learn French
or to play the pianoforte with me and the house staff.”
Katherine smiled; she couldn’t help smiling at Emma Parsons but didn’t know where this conversation was going.
“I’m a distant relation of the family, one of those many gentlewomen with no fortune or prospect of a husband. I enjoy my
position as housekeeper, but it can get lonely. We’re not quite family, and not quite servants, you and me. I’m going to enjoy
having a friend of my own class. I hope you don’t mind my saying that?” she confided.
“Not at all. I’m delighted,” shared Katherine with pleasure and went across to Emma Parsons and kissed her on her cheek.
“That is the nicest thing anyone has said to me this year. You have made all my misgivings disappear.”
“Misgivings?” queried Emma.
“I met the master of the house, the marquess, and he was somewhat abrupt. I don’t think I measured up to expectations.”
“Nonsense,” reassured Emma, “rest assured the marquess has no expectations. It is a little delicate, but it will help you to
know that her ladyship took matters into her own hands and decided to engage you. The marquess is just annoyed he wasn’t
consulted. Of course, if he had been consulted, he would have said no, and her ladyship, knowing how he is, pressed on with
her plan. Now you’re here, he’ll see sense in it.”
Emma led the way to the door. “Lady Midland is trying to encourage his lordship to marry again. His wife died when he was
very young. Every week, her ladyship finds another eligible young lady to dine or stay as a house guest. His lordship will have
none of it.” They crossed the hallway to some back stairs and began to climb several flights.
“I’ve put you in the attic, near the nursery, and I think you will like it as there is a little sitting room and a window looking
down to the river. You need to meet Agnes, the nurserymaid,” she added.
“It sounds wonderful,” said Katherine, relief flooding through her whole body.
“We’ve set up a school room on the first floor, near this back staircase, so you can leave without going through the main door. I
wondered about having the schoolroom in the attic, but it seems important to me that the girls spend time in the house with all
the servants and can meet guests. They will see their father, well, adopted father, more often too.”
“Adopted father?” questioned Katherine.
“He adopted them as his daughters when their poor mother died in a riding accident two years ago. He is their legal guardian,
but her ladyship is with the children most of the time.” She paused, turning to look at Katherine. “None of us have recovered
from the tragedy of losing Lady Elizabeth so soon after her husband’s death.”
She continued up the staircase to the top floor, and, to Katherine’s surprise, unlike most attics, there was a wide window giving
a vista of the hills and river in the distance. She drew in her breath. “It’s so beautiful,” she sighed.
“I’m so glad you are here, my dear. We need you.” Emma opened a door and stepped inside, and Katherine followed her.
She felt tears welling up. It was a delightful little sitting room with a fire burning in the hearth. The view from the windows
was the same view of the hills in the distance, and she felt her legs go weak with relief that her plan to escape had led her here
to this sanctuary, where she could close the door and call it her place.
“My dear, are you okay? If it isn’t to your liking, I can easily find you a room on the second floor.”
“It is perfect,” assured Katherine with delight.
“The bedroom is through here,” Emma opened a door to reveal a comfortable brass bed with a heavy brocade canopy
surrounding it and another fire burning in a small hearth.
“Don’t worry about the fire or tea in the morning. Betsy will look after you and ensure the fire is lit; all you need to focus on is
teaching Lottie and Sarah.”
After Emma left, Katherine unpacked the few belongings she had brought before sinking into the chair near the fire, recognizing
she was close to exhaustion. Tomorrow, she would meet her pupils and follow Lady Midland’s instructions to establish a bond
before even thinking about formal lessons.
She was responsible for the education of two little girls who had experienced the tragic loss of both mother and father. It was a
weighty responsibility, but the starting point was to build a relationship and then show them that learning was a lifelong
adventure.
Chapter 6
William woke early the next morning, rejoicing in taking a solitary ride across the frost-covered moors before returning to his
library and firmly closing the door.
He recognised, with the usual dread, that preparations were in progress for one of his mother’s house parties. Not only had she
foisted a governess on the household without consulting him, but she was continuing with her parade of potential marriage
partners. At least he could close his library door on the chaos.
His mind kept drifting to the new governess as he attempted to concentrate on estate paperwork. Repairs were needed to some
of the cottages, and a query about the type of wheat to sow in the lower field, but her blue eyes kept appearing in his head.
Early, far too early in the day, there was a knock on the door, and Crabtree, the butler entered. “Her ladyship wishes you to
know that the Whittakers have arrived.”
There was sympathy in Crabtree’s face as he imparted the news.
“Thank you, Crabtree. How long are they staying for?”
The expression of sympathy deepened. “The Winter Season, I believe,” he confirmed.
“Dash it all, Crabtree, that’s weeks, not a weekend.”
“Indeed, My Lord.”
“Well, if they are staying that long, I will not hurry through now. Tell her ladyship I’ll be there, erm, momentarily.”
Reluctantly, he left the serenity of his library and braced himself to join his mother in the drawing room.
His mother sat close to Lady Mary Whittaker, heads close together, exchanging gossip with the socialite who moved in the
upper circles of the ton. Lady Whittaker’s husband, Lord Jack Whittaker, and their daughters, Ellie and Hannah, were looking
out the window at the park with Ross. His cousin had been less successful at evading his mother’s direction to join the party.
From long experience, William knew immediately which of the daughters had been singled out as a potential future bride.
Elder children often have a veneer of confident self-assurance, and this was true of the beautifully charming Ellie Whittaker.
Tall and stately, with a halo of platinum blonde hair, she had the classical beauty and ruthless manipulative nature of a Roman
empress. Her beauty was mesmerizing, with emerald eyes shining brightly like a cat in the dark.
She came to stand next to William by the fire and immediately acted as though they were close acquaintances. He remembered
her vaguely from various events around the county. He thought he might have danced with her a couple of times.
“Is it necessary to do that at this moment, girl?” Ellie snapped at Betsy, noticing her as she stoked the fire.
“Sorry, Miss,” Betsy stammered and left the room.
Turning her attention back to William, Ellie asked, “William, where are those delightful little girls one hears so much about?”
“In the school room,” he supplied.
“I do so love children,” she gushed.
Sensing insincerity, William didn’t believe a word of this. However, there must be something about this young woman who had
made it to the top of his mother’s list of eligible brides.
Ross was talking with Hannah, Ellie’s younger sister. William’s impression, and he had met many young ladies in the last two
years, was that Hannah lived in her sister’s shadow, quiet and reserved, and if she could fade into the wall, she would happily
do so.
Ross had already connected with Hannah, who was laughing at something he’d said. Ross enjoyed these social events, and
William believed he could converse with anyone. His mother had moved to stand with Ellie and himself. He smiled politely,
positioning himself so he could see out of the window while adding the occasional word.
How could he endure several weeks of this? He was in danger of proposing to Ellie just so they would leave and he could
reclaim some peace and quiet.
When Mrs Parsons entered and suggested she escorted their guests to their rooms, he breathed a sigh of relief and made a
discreet exit. His mother seemed to have disappeared already, and he could hear her voice from the blue drawing room in the
distance. Were there two social gatherings happening simultaneously? Did she have another potential bride in there? He
needed to pass the drawing room to return to the sanctuary of his library.
Slowing down, he listened to the laughter of his nieces and mother. There had been too little laughter in this house since
Elizabeth’s death. Pausing to look into the room, he saw his mother introducing Lottie and Sarah to the new governess.
They hadn’t noticed him. Katherine was on the settee sharing a book with the girls, and the sound of her melodious voice was
difficult to leave. Katherine raised her head while continuing to read to the girls, and her captivating cornflower blue eyes met
his. His body felt charged and alive with energy. He nodded briefly at the governess and retreated to his library.
Closing the library door, he took a sharp breath. What had just happened? His mind was filled with the memory of the moment
when her blue eyes met his. Something about her intrigued him, and he realized he couldn’t even remember her name.
This can’t be happening. This is the children’s governess who arrived yesterday.
Yet throughout the day the image of Katherine’s eyes, raising to meet his, returned.
Chapter 7
Katherine slept well in her comfortable attic apartment and awoke, for the first time since her father’s death, without anxiety.
Her thoughts were clear and no longer clouded by problems that had no solution.
She smiled a bright welcome as Betsy came to light the fires and bring her warm water to fill the dainty china bowl on the
washstand.
This morning, she would finally meet her charges, and she hoped they would like her. She had read too many books from the
penny-lending library, where the children baited the governess until she left.
Dressed in her blue day dress, she hurried downstairs to find Lady Midland, who was to introduce her to Sarah and Lottie. The
house was a scene of considerable frantic activity. Emma Parsons waved and came over, while directing a footman carrying a
large ornate vase from one room to another.
Katherine’s mouth gaped open. “Good morning, Emma. Is it like this every day?” she asked, bemused.
Emma laughed, although her eyes never stopped scanning the activity going on around her. “We’re expecting a house party this
morning. I believe it is quite a small one this time, but it seems the guests may stay several weeks.” Several chambermaids
passed them carrying piles of linen.
“It’s a society friend of her ladyship, Lady Mary Whittaker, her husband, whose name I forget, and their eligible daughters Ellie
and Hannah.” Emma lowered her voice, “We have so many eligible ladies visiting Midland Manor; always preparing the house
is quite exhausting. I, for one, wish the marquess would choose one of the ladies his mother invites to the house and just get
married.”
“Will I still be able to meet my pupils this morning?” queried Katherine.
“Of course, Miss. There is breakfast waiting for you in the schoolroom, I thought you would prefer something in there. When
her ladyship is satisfied the house is ready for her guests, she will bring Lottie and Sarah to meet you.”
The children will be with Agnes, getting dressed, having breakfast, and possibly taking a walk. Agnes has a strict morning
schedule. You won’t ever start lessons before 10:30, possibly eleven o’clock,” Emma added. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I
need to supervise preparations,” and away she bustled, calling instructions and almost colliding with Crabtree coming in the
other direction.
Katherine found the new schoolroom towards the back of the house and closed the door with relief. The scene of chaos in the
hall had quite taken her mind off her apprehension at meeting Sarah and Lottie. She made a mental note that she must make sure
she met Agnes today.
The schoolroom was delightful, with a view across the valley. She stood for a moment, looking around, breathing in the scent
of cedarwood polish and old books. Her father would have loved this room, with a warm fire in the hearth and a wooden table
piled with slates and paper.
Each child had an abacus with their name engraved, and as she picked one up, moving the beads across, she smiled at the
thoughtfulness of the grandmother who had set up this place of learning. Near the window were easels with paints, and there
was even a small pianoforte and comfortable settee for sharing stories in the far corner.
Katherine ate her breakfast by the fire. Soon after she finished came a knock and Emma put her head round the door to tell her
that Lady Midland awaited her in the blue drawing room.
Katherine need not have worried. As soon as she saw Lottie and Sarah, she knew that the little girls would soak up learning.
They were sitting on the floor playing with a wooden spinning top and jumped up when they saw Katherine, running across to
greet her. Katherine felt a pang of sadness that their mother was unable to see them grow and explore the world.
Elizabeth's portrait hung above the hearth, so Lottie and Sarah could see their mother daily and remember her face.
Kathleen could see at a glance that her daughters had inherited Elizabeth’s unruly honey blonde curls and bright blue eyes.
She made a promise to Elizabeth to nurture these children as much as teach them.
Her heart melted at their curious faces. Lottie and Sarah Ashton almost resembled twins despite a two-year age gap. Their fair
hair fell in unruly spiral curls. Agnes, their nurserymaid, spent time every morning styling their curls into ladylike order, yet,
despite her best efforts, their hair was hanging loose by lunchtime, with lost ribbons cast around the house.
“Miss Katherine, what is it like to live in London? Have you seen Queen Charlotte?” asked Sarah, the oldest. “How I wish to
go to court and be presented at a ball ...”
Little Lottie jumped up and down excitedly, trying to get her attention. “Tell us about the stagecoach,” she implored. “Did you
see a highwayman?”
From across the room, Lady Midland smiled warmly in her direction and went to confer with a maid she assumed was Agnes.
Katherine gathered the children to sit either side of her on the settee and share a picture book. They soon became immersed in a
world of mermaids and sea creatures, Lottie wondering if a mermaid might be in the lake near Midland Manor.
Something made her sense someone was watching, and she looked up, expecting to see Lady Midland or Agnes. Glancing
around the room, she experienced a jolt of surprise, realizing it was the marquess, standing in the open doorway, watching the
little girls pointing out pictures and chattering excitedly about an imaginary underwater world. The expression on his face was
so much softer than yesterday.
He raised his eyes a second later, and his gaze met hers, intense blue eyes like whirlpools creating a warm connection
spreading throughout her body, stirring a fluttering sensation in her stomach. She closed her eyes, breaking the eerie connection,
and when she opened them again, he was gone.
She shook off any lingering effects of the encounter with the marquess and focused on the girls talking about the illustrations.
“What’s this creature?” asked Lottie, pointing to a turtle.
“It’s a sea tortoise, silly,” said Sarah. “Every mermaid has a sea tortoise as a pet.”
“Agnes, Agnes,” shouted Lottie, jumping off the settee and running to Agnes who had returned carrying a tray of muffins and
milk. “We’ve been looking at mermaids. This afternoon, can we go and look for mermaids in the lake?”
“Of course you can, my dears, but now it’s time for your milk.” Agnes turned to Katherine, “I brought their snack in here, but
they can have it in the schoolroom if you prefer.”
“Here, let me help,” said Katherine, taking the plate of muffins to the table. The children were soon munching their treat.
While they were occupied, Katherine asked Agnes to tell her about the children and what games they liked playing. “Don’t
worry, Miss, they will show you themselves. They love being outdoors and using their imaginations.” She paused before
adding, “I hope you don’t mind me saying, I’m glad you’re here, Miss, as they are ready to learn. I’ve been with them since
they were babies, but I have no book learning.”
“Love and kindness are as important as any book learning,” Katherine said kindly. “We must work together, Agnes, and make
sure they have a balanced day of learning and living.”
“You will find that Mrs Parsons has been teaching them to sew and Cook loves to have their help in the kitchen. Every
afternoon, they take tea and read with Lady Midland. If the weather permits, they explore the garden, and Mr Jaggers, the
gardener, is building them a treehouse in the orchard.”
“What busy lives! I’m going to need your help to remember all these things.” Katherine laughed. “And what do they do with
their uncle?” she asked, wondering if they did fishing or the estate accounts.
Agnes looked at her sadly. “They don’t see much of the master,” she disclosed. “They find him and show him things. Miss
Lottie found a bird’s nest last week, and he still has it in his library, but I think he struggles with children.”
“Miss Katherine. Can we go and look at the new globe now? Grandmamma said we had to wait for you to arrive before we
could spin it.”
“You can show us the ocean where the mermaids live,” suggested Sarah.
“Let’s do that now. Agnes, will you join us in the schoolroom? We are going to look at the globe and then draw a castle under
the sea.”
“Of course,” agreed Agnes. “I wish I had long fair hair like a mermaid.” She patted her brown hair. “Your grandmamma has
long golden hair; she might let you brush it later.”
Giggling together, they went to the schoolroom. Later, when Agnes had taken them for their afternoon naps, Katherine retreated
to her room. It sounded as though the guests had arrived, and she planned to avoid contact with them as much as possible. It
should be easy for a governess to be invisible in a great house like Midland Manor.
As she rested by the fire, she reflected that it had been a good morning. Lottie and Sarah bubbled with enthusiasm, eager to
explore the world. Agnes was going to be an ally, and it was clear Lady Midland’s priority was for them to be happy. She had
heard dreadful stories of the life of a governess, but so far, she was enjoying her new life and identity as Katherine Walters.
I wonder when I’ll see the marquess again, she thought. The surprise of such compelling deep blue eyes holding her
spellbound was hard to put aside. I probably imagined it. Now it is time to go for a walk in search of mermaids and teach
some facts about nature at the same time. That’s why I’m here in Yorkshire, to help two little girls discover a love of
learning.
Chapter 8
The library door was closed. Early morning light shone into William’s sanctuary, the place where he could escape the house
party guests until he had to join them for dinner. He might go along to the schoolroom later and see what Miss Katherine
Walters was teaching Sarah and Lottie today. There was a risk that if he ventured forth from the library, he could meet one of
the guests or, worse still, his mother.
Sighing loudly, he opened another ledger for the estate and spread it on the table. The estate was thriving, but only due to
consistent attention from him and Ross. They had neighbouring estates and worked together to manage them.
Ross had his head down scrutinizing the monthly accounts. “We’re spending a lot on winter hay,” said Ross out loud, almost
talking to himself.
William picked up on what he said. “Are we? I thought we gathered the hay from the lower fields and stored it for winter feed.
Last summer was hot, and we had three harvests of hay. It seems odd that we are spending so much now.” He glanced out of the
broad mullioned windows, longing to be out riding on the moors.
“I’ll ask Giles about it. I’m heading over there soon,” Ross said as he closed the ledger and stood up. “I’ll meet you at the
stables in an hour,” he called as he left the library.
All the estate ledgers lay on the heavy oak table where they had been working on calculating income from the previous month.
Prospering, after all their hard work, both the Midland and Grayton estates showed signs of going from strength to strength.
Aware of voices talking close to the library, William hoped no one would interrupt his concentration. Unfortunately, he was to
be disappointed.
“He’s busy with the accounts, Constance,” he heard Ross’ voice. “We’re trying to catch up with the administration for the
estates. I think he would prefer not to be disturbed.”
He mentally thanked his friend for trying to preserve his peace and quiet.
“Nonsense, Ross,” came the strident tone of his mother. “He will see me. I need to update him about the plans for the week.
There is a carriage ride this afternoon; he will want to accompany Miss Whittaker.”
“If you say so, Aunt,” Ross’ voice replied, defeat evident in his tone. “If you will excuse me, I’m needed at the stables.”
Footsteps sounded, and something perverse in his mood meant William did not raise his head, pretending not to know his
mother was there.
“Ah, there you are, William,” came his mother’s voice. “Forever hiding away in this library. Ross was under the impression
you were too busy for interruptions.”
“Well I …” William stammered, as he tried to think of a riposte.
“What poppycock,” she said, without listening to him and determined to continue. “I told him that does not apply to me.”
“As I was trying to say, Mother, I am trying to concentrate. Perhaps we could talk later?”
At times like this, William added another to his list of reasons for considering remarrying. It could be an advantage to have a
lady of the house who would act as a buffer between him and his mother.
“We really do have the most wonderful guests for the winter season. It’s working out so well,” his mother continued without
any sign of paying attention to anything he had said. “The Miss Whittakers, Ellie and Hannah, are lovely girls. I happen to know
Ellie rejected an offer from the Earl of Ryeton when she was in town before Christmas. I think she has her sights set
elsewhere,” she said conspiratorially.
William was struggling to respond, deciding the best thing to do was to let his mother continue.
“Hannah is a sweet girl, too,” his mother added before pausing as she busied herself tidying a pile of books. “I noticed she was
talking with Ross. It’s time he found a companion. She might do for him. What do you think?”
She gave William no chance to respond before continuing, “I’ll ask Mrs Parsons to bring some flowers in here. It is so dismal.
It really does need brightening up.”
“Mother, I’m glad you like your guests. You know how I feel about this continual procession of potential brides. You told me it
would stop now you had engaged Miss Walters as a governess.” Frustration was evident in William’s voice as he finally got
the chance to speak.
He pressed too firmly with his quill, spraying ink across the ledger and onto the beautifully polished table. Please, oh please,
let her leave this room soon, or I will say something I will regret, he told himself.
“Indeed, I will reduce the invitations, but the Whittakers had already been invited for the winter season. Lord Whittaker is a
Viscount, and Miss Whittaker is very eligible.”
“Mother, this has to stop. When I accepted having the governess foisted upon this household, you assured me your matchmaking
endeavours would stop,” he persisted but to no avail.
“Ellie really is top drawer in the ton,” continued his mother, determined to make her son fully aware of Ellie’s charms.
“Perfect manners and style. She is à la mode, seriously impressive style with those puff sleeves and that damask velvet. It
worked so well at dinner last night.”
“Mother please,” he said, on the verge of banging his head on the table.
“Now, you can surely make time to join us for a carriage ride this afternoon?” It was a statement rather than a request.
“Mother, no, absolutely not.”
“We are just going as far as the Tor rocks to see the view across the valley,” his mother persisted.
“Mother, please. I really do need to concentrate on estate business.”

She smiled, fixing him with the look she had used ever since William was a young boy. “My dear William, credit me with some
sense. If you find a new marchioness and mother for Sarah and Lottie, then you will have far more time for estate business,” his
mother stated reasonably. “Miss Whittaker is highly eligible. It is hard to find young ladies who enjoy life in this remote part of
the country.”
“Mother, for the final time. At the risk of repeating myself, we talked about this before, and I am not looking for a wife. Last
week, you told me you had employed a governess because I had failed to find a wife. Now we have a governess, and there is
still a constant stream of eligible brides.” This time, he looked up from the ledgers, looking directly at his mother for the first
time.
“Whatever possessed you to invite the Whittaker family for such a long stay? Even I can see Lord and Lady Whittaker are going
to have expectations of my marrying their daughter, and they are going to be extremely disappointed.”
Lady Midland fixed her son with a glare. “You need a wife. This house needs a mistress, and my granddaughters need a mother.
Miss Whittaker is here for the winter season; that’s ample time for you to get to know her.”
Why did he bother? He loved his Mama, but she was seriously out of line with her persistent matchmaking.
“Now, about luncheon and the carriage ride. I think that …” His mother still expected William to acquiesce, but she was to be
defeated.
“No. Absolutely not.” William banged down a pile of papers on the table and this time the inkwell itself spilled onto the table.
He swore. “That’s it,” he added in vexation. “No luncheon. No carriage ride.” He glared at his mother again. “Leave me to
concentrate on estate business.”
“Well, William, there is no need to speak to me in that unpleasant tone of voice.” His mother glared back in the imperious
manner she had perfected since becoming a marchioness. “I am seriously displeased with you. I shall leave you now, and I
expect an apology.” The door slammed as his mother left the room.
As the door closed behind his mother, he put his head in his hands and muttered, “And you will wait a long time for that
apology, Mama. You are testing my patience to the limit.”
A memory of eyes meeting his across the blue drawing room drifted into his thoughts. That was all he needed. There was no
way thoughts of the governess were going to distract him.
He tried to work, but all focus had drained away. He needed to get out of here. Time for that ride with Ross.
William rapidly saddled his chestnut horse, eager to ride out on the hills. Giles, his groom, stood back, recognizing his master
needed space.
More leisurely in his preparations, Ross mounted his grey, then joined William in the courtyard.
“William, I’ve known you long enough to know something is amiss. Slow down and tell me about it.”
“In a while, Ross. Let’s get out of here. I need to ride.”

William galloped to the beck and the bridge, the place where their horses always took a drink. Ross arrived a few minutes
later, an experienced but more cautious rider.
“So? What has possessed you to ride so dangerously across the moor? It is icy. You could have been thrown,” Ross berated
William.
“Mother!” William fired back knowing that the one word was explanation enough.
“Ah,” Ross knew what was coming next.
“Last week, she foisted a governess on the household, telling me it was because I have failed to remarry. This week we have
the arrival of Miss Ellie Whittaker and her family, who will stay for several weeks. I am expected to pay court to Miss
Whittaker. Mama seems determined that I marry this young lady.” He stopped, guiding his horse to the beck.
Ross nodded, saying nothing, waiting for William’s rage to fade.
“Perhaps I should do the same and invite a host of potential men Mama could marry to replace Papa.” William couldn’t hide
the sarcasm in his voice.
Ross raised an eyebrow. “You know, I think the governess was a good idea. And I like her, William. From what I’ve seen,
Miss Katherine Walters is good for the girls.”
He paused, watching William closely.
“You like her?” Ross declared in astonishment at the look that briefly crossed William’s face. He’d known him too long not to
notice it.
“Of course not. Absolutely not,” refuted William, without conviction.
“Hmm. I saw something in your expression. You can deny it, but there is something there.” Ross patted his horse and looked
down the valley, avoiding looking at his friend.
Not getting an answer, Ross continued, “And the fair Miss Whittaker? Aunt Constance is not going to be happy if you don’t
propose to her.”
“Oh, maybe. Who knows? I may make her an offer of marriage for a quiet life.” William laughed. “She seems nice enough
despite the obvious flirting. She doesn’t hide her intentions, and her laugh makes my teeth grate.”
“Well, so long as your eye doesn’t rest on her sister, Hannah,” declared Ross.
“Ross, my friend, you like the younger Miss Whittaker?”
“I do indeed. I find her conversations refreshing, and she speaks very knowledgeable. I like her very much.”
William caught his breath, looking at Ross with a smile. “It has been so long since you showed any interest in a woman. You’ve
taken me a bit by surprise.” He patted his friend on the back. “I wish you luck in your quest for love. You were hit hard when
Blanche ended your engagement and married the Duke of Bridewell. I did wonder if you would ever find love again.”
“Steady on, William, it’s early days.” Ross laughed. “But, I don’t know, it feels right.”
The two friends remounted and rode back to the manor, the revelation of Ross and his interest in Hannah once more turning
William’s thoughts to Katherine’s blue eyes.
That evening, William could not avoid dinner with the house guests. Entering the drawing room he smiled to himself as he
could see Ross engaged in close conversation with Hannah. Hannah was laughing with Ross, and William was glad his friend
was taking the first tentative steps on the route to potential happiness.
Inevitably, he accompanied Miss Whittaker into dinner and, unsurprisingly, found himself seated next to her for the meal. His
mother, still displeased with him, had arranged things so William had to spend the entire evening in close proximity to Ellie.
How many more of these evenings could he stand?
Should he take what his mother said about a wife seriously? Should he at least consider Miss Whittaker as the future mistress
of Midland Manor? His mother was clearly convinced she would make an ideal marchioness.
“Miss Whittiker,” said Lady Midland, “how lovely you look tonight. Indeed, that blue sapphire dress is a perfect match for our
blue drawing room.”
Ellie laughed with the high-pitched laughter that set William’s teeth on edge.
She is almost simpering at Mama, thought William.
“You will, of course, be here for the winter ball,” Lady Midland asked Miss Whittaker. “It is our main social event of the year
at Midland Manor. We hold it towards the end of the winter season, when there is less chance of snow and ice. We are so
looking forward to you and your family joining us for the season.”
“Oh, Your Ladyship, there is to be a ball?” Miss Whittaker couldn’t hide the excitement in her voice.
As his mother shared details of the winter ball with Miss Whittaker, he phased out of the discussion.
Well I suppose her conversation is no worse than the other young ladies I’ve met in recent months, he thought. I can see
that she is definitely aware of the reason she has been invited to Midland Manor.
He remembered Elizabeth, his sister, and wished she were there. The winter ball had been the highlight of her year. They had
not held one since her death.
At the table, all the way through the courses of chestnut soup, roast mutton, halibut with white wine and mushrooms, followed
by trifle, William was attentive and polite. Could this woman seated next to him with her incessant talking be his future
marchioness? He caught a glimpse of his mother watching them closely with a satisfied smile.
The talk around the table was all about the winter ball. Lady Midland’s enthusiasm was infectious, and Lady Whittaker asked
where they could find a dressmaker for new ball gowns for Ellie and Hannah.
He noticed Ellie’s lace tucked modestly in the bodice of her dress had slipped a little, and he averted his gaze when speaking
with her. She had positioned herself so it was practically impossible for him to speak to anyone else during dinner. Eyelashes
fluttering, flirtatious glances, and a slipped lace tucker. Why wasn’t he responding to these obvious signals? Instead, he
experienced a subtle discomfort at her closeness and obvious determination to attract him.
Her continual, high-pitched laughter grated as he tried to listen to what she said.
Maybe she is just trying too hard? he wondered.
Eventually, the ladies withdrew to the blue drawing room while the men stayed to drink port or claret. William seized the
opportunity to delay returning to join the ladies. He needed some time away from the cacophony. He missed quiet evenings by
the fire, reading a book, and discussing plans for their respective estates with Ross. Even his dog, Flint, had been relegated to
the stable, as Lady Whittaker had a fear of dogs.
Anyone with a fear of dogs ought not to visit a country estate, he thought dispassionately.
Escaping to seek solace in his library sanctuary, he opened the door. He stopped on the threshold, realizing he was not alone.
There was Katherine, sitting by the fire, engrossed in a novel, her face deep in the shadows, barely visible in the candlelight.
He cleared his throat, alerting her to his presence, and saw her body stiffen. Conscious of her discomfort, he smiled in what he
hoped was a reassuring way and gestured to her to return to her seat.
She looked at him, and he struggled to hear what she said as he felt himself being pulled into the deep, blue pools of her eyes.
This won’t do, he told himself firmly. He made a conscious effort to treat this as any conversation with a household member.
“Good evening,” he muttered, almost inaudibly.
“Good evening, My Lord,” Katherine replied quietly.
“Pray, don’t let me disturb you. I envy you this quiet time. I must return to the party but sought a few moments of peace,”
William reassured her. “You enjoy reading?”
“Indeed I do, My Lord,” Katherine answered. “I was hoping you might have some of Mr. Fielding’s novels. I particularly
enjoy Amelia.”
He found the low pitch of her contralto voice soothing and could not help contrasting it with the high-pitched tones of Lady
Whittaker.
Say something, he told himself. You can’t just stand and stare at Miss Walters.
“Alas no,” he found his voice. “It isn’t in my collection, but I hope it will be soon.”
“I found an old favourite of mine, Mrs Radcliffe’s The Mysteries of Adolpho,” she confided. “Your fire was still warm, and I
found myself staying by the hearth, caught up in the words and adventure.”
“It seems you are highly educated, Miss Katherine Walters. My mother engaged you, so I find myself knowing nothing of your
background. Would you tell me about yourself and your education?” William’s curiosity was aroused.
“It is very simple, Your Lordship. My father was an academic and fellow at Cambridge. I grew up there, in fact. We moved to
London in his later years as his eyesight was failing by that point. I have a sound knowledge of arithmetic, classics, and French
from my lessons, but my father kindled my interest in literature,” Katherine explained.
After a pause she continued, “We even studied ancient texts from mediaeval days. I learned to read a little of the old form of
English, used by Chaucer in his tales and poetry.”
He smiled wryly. “I knew it. You are a scholar yourself, Miss Walters. My daughters are lucky to have you as their teacher.”
“I cannot claim to be a scholar, but I enjoy reading and hope to share my love of stories and imagination with Sarah and
Lottie,” Katherine replied modestly.
For a while they discussed their favourite books and poetry, sitting in front of the hearth. Then William, who had just picked up
a book, put it down again reluctantly.
“I apologise, but I must return to my mother’s guests. I look forward to many conversations in the months ahead, I have a great
fondness for literature myself. I’m sure the children will progress in their studies under your guidance. Anon for now, Miss
Walters. Enjoy the peace in the best place in the house.” William bowed and left.
On his way to join the guests in the blue drawing room, he found Mr Crabtree and asked him to bank up the fire in the library.
Once more, he found Katherine haunting his thoughts while he stood politely listening to Lord Whittaker, discussing his
preference for Madeira wine over claret. The role of a governess was far from easy. Katherine was clearly an educated
woman, who had lived as a gentlewoman until her circumstances had changed.
Her father had been a Cambridge scholar with an eminent background, and it seemed she could discuss literature and poetry
eloquently. Now, as a paid employee, the rules dictated that she was segregated from polite society and apart from servants,
too.
An image of her sitting near the hearth, reading alone, her face illuminated by candlelight stayed with him as he prepared to
retire for the night.
He persuaded himself he had an interest in her as a person, but his strong bodily response was to Katherine as a woman.
For once, he fell asleep with no thoughts of estate business or family duties but a pair of blue eyes, like pools with endless
depths.
Chapter 9
The next day, Katherine woke in the early morning darkness. In winter, the sun rose late on the Yorkshire Moors. Her bed was
warm and almost luxurious, and she felt relaxed for the first time in many months.
Around her, the house was coming to life with the sound of footsteps and grates rattling as fires were lit.
Her encounter in the library with William was still vivid in her mind. How strange that she thought of him as William today.
There was such pleasure in conversing with someone who shared a love of literature.
As he gazed at her, his face illuminated by the flames of the fire, his personality seemed softer. As they sat together across the
fire, he seemed genuinely interested in her father and her education. It had been a pleasure to engage in a conversation where
someone genuinely seemed to value her opinion. When Papa was alive, they had dined with many scholars, but she had met
few men with as wide a knowledge as William.
He stirred her curiosity, and she felt a strong desire to discover more about the man behind the title.
I need to rise and dress for the day, she thought, reluctant to leave her bed. The marquess is my employer, and I need to stop
thinking of him as a friend. She sighed deeply, dragging herself out of her warm cocoon, realizing she was already in danger
of thinking of William as far more than a friend.
Come on Katherine. Time to get on with the day. It is a busy day, and you have preparation to complete before the girls join
you for lessons.
Splashing cold water on her face soon dispelled any lingering thoughts of conversations in candlelit libraries.
A knock on the door announced the arrival of Betsy to build up the fire and bring her a can of hot water.
After she’d had her breakfast, Katherine managed to reach the schoolroom without meeting any of the guests. Mrs Parsons
waved at her as they passed on the stairs.
“I’ll call and see you and the children later this morning,” the housekeeper promised, squeezing Katherine’s hand.
“It will be good to see you. Come any time. Agnes will be there, too.”
The schoolroom was filled with light, and Katherine closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of the winter sun. She loved the
schoolroom and already had many happy memories of the children using their imaginations and exploring the world of learning.
Lady Midland's suggestion about easing into lessons over time had worked well.
A brisk knock on the door, and Mrs Parsons joined her.
“This looks beautiful,” Mrs Parsons said, picking up a piece of fabric and holding it up to the light.
“It’s a special day of art and crafts. We’re sketching this morning and then making a collage with fabric this afternoon,”
enthused Katherine.
“Say if you need anything,” urged Mrs Parsons. “It is calmer now the guests have arrived. The ladies are all travelling to York
to shop for haberdashery today. You may have heard that Lady Midland has reinstated the winter ball this year. We haven’t had
one since Lady Elizabeth died.”
She paused, “It was Elizabeth’s favourite time of the year. I remember one year she had a dress with a matching cape and
velvet hood.”
Mrs Parsons felt the fabric against her cheek. “I wish those little girls had memories of their mother.” She was silent for a
moment as she remembered Elizabeth.
“A winter ball?” queried Katherine. “Here at the house? That sounds impressive.”
Mrs Parsons sighed. “It will need much preparation and organisation.”
The door burst open and there were Sarah and Lottie with Agnes. “Miss Katherine, Miss Katherine. Look what we found,” they
chorused excitedly.
“It’s a foothill,” said Lottie seriously.
“No silly, it’s a fossil,” corrected Sarah. “We found it under some moss by the stream. We are going to show it to Uncle
William. What is it called Agnes?”
“An ammonite,” said Agnes.
“That’s excellent news because I have an idea,” said Katherine conspiratorially. “Today we are having a day of making things.
You can make presents for your grandmother and uncle.”
“I was in the library yesterday and noticed that your uncle has so many papers he really needs a paperweight. You can use the
fossil to make one for him,” explained Katherine.
Sarah appeared hesitant, looking down at the floor. “I don’t think we will be able to disturb him today,” said Lottie in a quiet
voice, Katherine straining to hear her.
Sarah frowned. “He is always so busy with his fusty musty papers.”
“Fusty musty, fusty musty,” shouted Lottie spinning in a circle. “We can’t disturb Uncle William,” she added in a sombre tone.
Mrs Parsons caught Katherine’s eye. “Your uncle will love a paperweight for his fusty musty papers.” She laughed. “It’s an
excellent idea.” She hugged each girl gently and said she would come back later to see what they had crafted.
Katherine was perplexed at the girls’ reaction to their uncle, but undeterred, she bustled the children into aprons while Agnes
set up the paints.
“We need to involve his lordship in their lives. I don’t know why, but he seems rather formal and austere with the children,”
Katherine confided to Agnes.
She called Lottie and Charlotte over. “What can you make for your grandmama?” she asked.
‘I’m going to paint her wearing a ballgown,” said Sarah. “There’s going to be a ball here. Agnes told us about it. Agnes will
you go to the ball?”
“No ,my dears, but we can watch some of the pretty ladies in their gowns. Your grandmama has gone shopping today to choose
fabric for her dress,” Agnes replied.
“I love dancing,” said Lottie, twirling again. “I’m going to dance with Uncle William.”
Sarah had another idea. “We can make Grandmamma a card to write her dances on,” she said excitedly.
“What dances do you know, Miss Katherine? Can you teach us a reel?” Lottie looked at Katherine pleadingly.
“Of course," said Katherine. “Agnes and I will show you how to dance a reel.”
The morning passed quickly, creativity filling the air and excited voices exploring ribbons, parchment, and paints.
Agnes helped them paint Lady Midland in a beautiful gown and headdress with feathers.
Mrs Parsons returned and was persuaded to play a reel on the piano while Katherine and Agnes danced and helped Sarah and
Lottie copy the movements. They were laughing as Lady Midland entered the room and smiled at the happy scene before her.
“Well done, my dear,” she whispered to Katherine. “They need to laugh and have fun.”
“They are very excited by the ball,” said Katherine.
“We all are,” said Lady Midland. “It has been a long time since we held the winter ball. Now I must go. Enjoy the rest of your
day.”
Katherine tidied up the schoolroom while the children went for luncheon and their nap. She found the ammonite fossil and her
unease returned at the children's reaction when she suggested making it into a gift for their uncle. This was such a contrast to
the man she had spent time with in the library the previous evening.
They need to have more contact with their uncle. I think I know what to do to make that happen. It isn’t for me to delve into
family matters; that’s not my place, but I’m here as a governess, and part of that is my charges sharing their work. That’s
what we are going to do.
She settled to setting out parchment and forming it into several small books. When Sarah and Lottie, returned they were excited
to see the tiny books on the table.
“We are going to make our own books,” Katherine told them. “Then you can give them to your uncle for his library,” she added.
Sarah obviously thought this was a good idea. “I think Uncle William will like that,” she nodded, looking thoughtful. “He loves
his library and his books.”
Before they went for their afternoon walk, they had already begun to draw pictures in the little books.
Agnes had found each of them a basket in which to keep their work. Mrs Parsons came to see how they had been getting on.
Excitedly, they showed her their handiwork.
“These are for Grandmama,” disclosed Lottie. “Don’t tell her, it’s a big surprise.”
“And these are for Uncle William,” said Sarah proudly, showing Mrs Parsons the fossil paperweight, now painted brightly, and
reaching into the basket, she took out the tiny books. “And these are for his library.”
Mrs Parsons gave Katherine a look of thanks and saw immediately what Katherine had planned.
“We’re going to make him a collection of little books and give them to him every week,” Sarah declared.
At the end of a busy day, Katherine looked around at the chaos, knowing it was happy chaos. She was here to teach the girls to
enjoy learning, and that’s what had happened today. The relationship between the girls and William was not her concern.
However, she could make sure that William was involved in the lessons.
Later in the week, the children could share the little books with their uncle, and she would make sure he added them to the
library shelves.
Another random document with
no related content on Scribd:
The Project Gutenberg eBook of Le livre des enfants
This ebook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most other
parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may
copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License
included with this ebook or online at www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the
United States, you will have to check the laws of the country where you are located
before using this eBook.
Title: Le livre des enfants
Author: Marceline Desbordes-Valmore
Illustrator: André Hellé
Release date: June 16, 2022 [eBook #68327]
Language: French
Original publication: France: Garnier Frères, 1924
Credits: Claudine Corbasson and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at

https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made
available by the Bibliothèque nationale de France (BnF/Gallica))
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LE LIVRE DES ENFANTS ***
Au lecteur
Table des matières
LE LIVRE
DES
E N FA N T S
OUVRAGES D’ANDRÉ HELLÉ
FILMS pour les Tout-Petits (Librairie Garnier Frères)

La boîte à joujoux, ballet pour enfant, musique de Claude DEBUSSY.
La belle histoire que voilà.
Histoire de Quillembois, soldat.
Le livre des heures héroïques et douloureuses, 1914-1918.
L’Alphabet de la Grande Guerre.
En seconde ligne.
Illustrations des fables de La Fontaine.
EN PRÉPARATION A LA LIBRAIRIE GARNIER

L’Arche de Noé.
PRÉFACE
Jour par jour, de la vie

une nouvelle page,
Enfants, va s’ouvrir à
vos yeux;
Autour de ses feuillets riants
ou sérieux
Les bals, les chants
d’oiseaux feront bien du
tapage.
Lisez, lisez toujours, et

méditez tout bas
Cette vie, aux cœurs purs
rarement infidèle;
Car tous ceux qui se
plaignent d’elle
Sont ceux qui ne
l’entendent pas.
L’ÉCOLIER
Un tout petit enfant s’en allait à l’école.
On avait dit: «Allez!...» Il tâchait d’obéir;
Mais son livre était lourd, il ne pouvait courir;
Il pleure, et suit des yeux une abeille qui vole.
«Abeille, lui dit-il, voulez-vous me parler?

Moi, je vais à l’école: il faut apprendre à lire;
Mais le maître est tout noir, et je n’ose pas rire:
Voulez-vous rire, abeille, et m’apprendre à voler?
—Non, dit-elle, j’arrive et je suis très pressée.
J’avais froid; l’aquilon m’a longtemps oppressée;
Enfin j’ai vu les fleurs; je redescends du ciel,
Et je vais commencer mon doux rayon de miel.
Voyez! j’en ai déjà puisé dans quatre roses;
Avant une heure encor nous en aurons d’écloses;
Vite, vite à la ruche! On ne rit pas toujours;
C’est pour faire le miel qu’on nous rend les beaux jours.»
Elle fuit et se perd sur la route embaumée.

Le frais lilas sortait d’un vieux mur entr’ouvert;
Il saluait l’aurore, et l’aurore charmée
Se montrait sans nuage et riait de l’hiver.
Une Hirondelle passe: elle effleure la joue

Du petit nonchalant qui s’attriste et qui joue;
Et, suspendue au nid qui l’abrita deux fois,
Fait tressaillir l’écho qui dort au fond des bois.
«Oh! bonjour! dit l’enfant, qui se souvenait d’elle:
Je t’ai vue à l’automne; oh! bonjour, hirondelle!
Viens! tu portais bonheur à ma maison, et moi
Je voudrais du bonheur. Veux-tu m’en donner, toi?
Jouons.—Je le voudrais, répond la voyageuse,
Car je respire à peine, et je me sens joyeuse.
Mais j’ai beaucoup d’amis qui doutent du printemps;
Ils rêveraient ma mort si je tardais longtemps.
Non, je ne puis jouer. Pour finir leur souffrance
J’emporte un brin de mousse en signe d’espérance.
Nous allons relever nos palais dégarnis:
L’herbe croît, c’est l’instant des amours et des nids.
J’ai tout vu. Maintenant, fidèle messagère,
Je vais chercher mes sœurs, là-bas sur le chemin.
Ainsi que nous, enfant, la vie est passagère;
Il faut en profiter. Je me sauve... A demain!»
L’enfant reste muet, et, la tête baissée,

Rêve et compte ses pas pour tromper son ennui,
Quand le livre importun, dont sa main est lassée,
Rompt ses fragiles liens et tombe auprès lui.
Un dogue l’observait du coin de sa demeure;
Stentor, gardien sévère et prudent à la fois,
De peur de l’effrayer retient sa grosse voix.
Hélas! peut-on crier contre un enfant qui pleure?
«Bon dogue, voulez-vous que je m’approche un peu?

Dit l’écolier plaintif. Je n’aime pas mon livre;
Voyez! ma main est rouge, il en est cause. Au jeu
Rien ne fatigue, on rit; et moi je voudrais vivre
Sans aller à l’école, où l’on tremble toujours.
Je m’en plains tous les soirs, et j’y vais tous les jours.
J’en suis très mécontent. Je n’aime aucune affaire;
Le sort des chiens me plaît, car ils n’ont rien à faire.
—Ecolier! voyez-vous ce laboureur aux champs?

Eh bien! ce laboureur, dit Stentor, c’est mon maître.
Il est très vigilant; je le suis plus peut-être.
Il dort la nuit; et moi, j’écarte les méchants.
J’éveille aussi ce bœuf qui, d’un pied lent, mais ferme,
Va creuser les sillons quand je garde la ferme.
Pour vous-même on travaille; et, grâce à nos brebis,
Votre mère, en chantant, vous file des habits.
Par le travail tout plaît, tout s’unit, tout s arrange.
Allez donc à l’école; allez, mon petit ange!
Les chiens ne lisent pas, mais la chaîne est pour eux:
L’ignorance toujours mène à la servitude.
L’homme est fin, l’homme est sage; il nous défend l’étude:
Enfant, vous serez homme, et vous serez heureux;
Les chiens vous serviront. L’enfant l’écouta dire;
Et même il le baisa! Son livre était moins lourd.
En quittant le bon dogue, il pense, il marche, il court.
L’espoir d’être homme un jour lui ramène un sourire.
A l’école, un peu tard, il arrive gaîment,

Et dans le mois des fruits il lisait couramment.
L’OREILLER D’UNE PETITE FILLE
Cher petit oreiller, doux et chaud sous ma tête,
Plein de plume choisie, et blanc, et fait pour moi:
Quand on a peur du vent, des loups, de la tempête,
Cher petit oreiller, que je dors tien sur toi!
Beaucoup, beaucoup d’enfants pauvres et nus, sans mère,

Sans maison, n’ont jamais d’oreiller pour dormir;
Ils ont toujours sommeil. O destinée amère!
Maman! Douce maman! Cela me fait gémir.
Et quand j’ai prié Dieu pour tous ces petits anges

Qui n’ont point d’oreiller, moi, j’embrasse le mien.
Seule, dans mon doux nid qu’à tes pieds tu m’arranges,
Je te bénis, ma mère, et je touche le tien!
Je ne m’éveillerai qu’à la lueur première
De l’aube; au rideau bleu, c’est si gai de la voir!
Je vais dire tout bas ma plus tendre prière;
Donne encore un baiser, douce maman! Bonsoir!
PRIÈRE
Dieu des enfants! le cœur d’une petite fille,

Plein de prière, écoute, est ici sous mes mains:
On me parle toujours d ’orphelins sans famille:
Dans l’avenir, mon Dieu, ne fais plus d’orphelins!
Laisse descendre au soir un ange qui pardonne,

Pour répondre à des voix que l’on entend gémir;
Mets sous l’enfant perdu, que sa mère abandonne,
Un petit oreiller qui le fera dormir!
DORMEUSE
Si l’enfant sommeille,
Il verra l’abeille,
Quand elle aura fait son miel,
Danser entre terre et ciel.
Si l’enfant repose,
Un ange tout rose,
Que la nuit seule on peut voir,
Viendra lui dire: «Bonsoir!»
Si l’enfant est sage,

Sur son doux visage,
La Vierge se penchera,
Et longtemps lui parlera.
Si mon enfant m’aime,
Dieu dira lui-même:
«J’aime cet enfant qui dort;
Qu’on lui porte un rêve d’or!
«Fermez ses paupières,

Et sur ses prières,
De mes jardins pleins de fleurs
Faites glisser les couleurs.
«Ourlez-lui des langes,

Avec vos doigts d’anges,
Et laissez sur son chevet
Pleuvoir votre blanc duvet.
«Mettez-lui des ailes

Comme aux tourterelles,
Pour venir dans mon soleil,
Danser jusqu’à son réveil!
«Qu’il fasse un voyage
Au bras d’un nuage,
Et laissez-le, s’il lui plaît,
Boire à mes ruisseaux de lait!
«Donnez-lui la chambre
De perles et d’ambre,
Et qu’il partage en dormant
Nos gâteaux de diamant!
«Brodez-lui des voiles

Avec mes étoiles,
Pour qu’il navigue en bateau
Sur mon lac d’azur et d’eau!
«Que la lune éclaire

L’eau pour lui plus claire,
Et qu’il prenne, au lac changeant,
Mes plus fins poissons d’argent!
«Mais je veux qu’il dorme

Et qu’il se conforme
Au silence des oiseaux
Dans leurs maisons de roseaux!
«Car si l’enfant pleure,

On entendra l’heure
Tinter partout qu’un enfant
A fait ce que Dieu défend!
«L’écho de la rue
«L écho de la rue
Au bruit accourue,
Quand l’heure aura soupiré,
Dira: L’enfant a pleuré!
«Et sa tendre mère,

Dans sa nuit amère,
Pour son ingrat nourrisson
Ne saura plus de chanson!
«S’il brame, s’il crie.

Par l’aube en furie
Ce cher agneau révolté
Sera peut-être emporté!
«Un si petit être
Par le toit, peut-être,
Tout en criant s’en ira
Et jamais ne reviendra!
«Qu’il rôde en ce monde,

Sans qu’on lui réponde!
Jamais l’enfant que je dis
Ne verra mon paradis!»
Oui! mais s’il est sage,

Sur son doux visage
La Vierge se penchera,
Et longtemps lui parlera.
SELON DIEU
Mère, un cheval est à la porte,
Il demande la charité.
—Vite, du foin, qu’on le lui porte!
Il en sera réconforté.
Cheval, dis à Dieu, notre maître,
Qu’avec joie et sans te connaître,
Et nourris de sa charité,
Nous t’avons bien réconforté.
Mère, un ramier est à la porte,

Il demande la charité.
—J’ai là du blé, qu’on le lui porte!
Il en sera réconforté.

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“And all father’s debts will be settled?” she continued.

Oh, Father, I miss you so much.

Was she making the right decision?

She would never submit to a marriage with Sir Jason Protheroe.

Midland Manor, Easingfield, Yorkshire

“Mother, come away. We can do no more.”

“Mother, you did wrong. This is unacceptable interference.”

“I know,” was all she managed to croak.

“Here.” Annie offered her a flask to take a drink.

“Despicable!” muttered Annie.

“Ah, no pressure there then,” Ross said, smiling.

Ross spluttered, “She’s what?”

They were nearly back.

“She’s seen us,” said Ross. “No escape now!”

Ross laughed. “She caught your interest. Admit it.”

This was unexpected grandeur in the middle of a remote moorland wilderness.

“When will I meet my pupils,” asked Katherine.

Mrs Parsons would put anyone at ease, thought Katherine.

“Misgivings?” queried Emma.

“Adopted father?” questioned Katherine.

“It is perfect,” assured Katherine with delight.

There was sympathy in Crabtree’s face as he imparted the news.

“Thank you, Crabtree. How long are they staying for?”

The expression of sympathy deepened. “The Winter Season, I believe,” he confirmed.

“Dash it all, Crabtree, that’s weeks, not a weekend.”

“In the school room,” he supplied.

“I do so love children,” she gushed.

“Will I still be able to meet my pupils this morning?” queried Katherine.

“What’s this creature?” asked Lottie, pointing to a turtle.

“Well I …” William stammered, as he tried to think of a riposte.

“Mother, no, absolutely not.”

“Mother, please. I really do need to concentrate on estate business.”

“In a while, Ross. Let’s get out of here. I need to ride.”

“Ah,” Ross knew what was coming next.

Ross nodded, saying nothing, waiting for William’s rage to fade.

He paused, watching William closely.

“Of course not. Absolutely not,” refuted William, without conviction.

“Ross, my friend, you like the younger Miss Whittaker?”

How many more of these evenings could he stand?

She is almost simpering at Mama, thought William.

Maybe she is just trying too hard? he wondered.