The Governess Club: Claire (15 page)
Claire couldn’t stop staring at Jacob. When Louisa had asked her to meet with a guest in the drawing room after her lesson had finished, she had assumed it was to greet a potential client. They had only been accepting clients for two months, but their reputation as educators had already begun to grow. The nearby villagers may still be wary of single young ladies living independently, but they could not discredit the quality of tutoring their children received.
Instead it was Jacob. Here. In her drawing room. Where her mother had taught her to serve tea. She had sat for countless hours in the room, stitching, embroidering, learning how to be hostess, asking her mother for advice, entertaining guests, and later mourning both parents. But nothing had prepared her for the sight of Jacob Knightly standing in this room.
Heavens above, but she had underestimated the effect seeing him again would have on her. He had been dangerous as a simple tutor, but now, dressed in town finery? This Jacob Knightly was ruthless; just from looking at him she could feel her breasts tighten and her body soften. The tan pantaloons that hugged his thighs disappeared into gleaming black Hessians. Ivory white linen surrounded his throat, tied in a simple but perfect knot. The brown coat was so finely tailored it seemed as though it had been sewn onto his shoulders. Even his hair, long and unkempt as a tutor, had been precisely cut into a fashionable array.
Despite her physical and emotional response to his arrival, everything about this Jacob Knightly just emphasized how she didn’t belong in his world.
Jacob bowed to her. “Miss Bannister.”
Claire curtseyed. “Mr. Knightly.”
They stared at each other. “You look well,” Jacob said. “Are you?”
“Yes, I am. And you?”
“Yes, thank you.”
They stared at each other. “How is your nephew?” Claire asked.
Jacob smiled. “A credit to his father and mother. Doesn’t stop howling, though.”
Another moment passed. “I didn’t expect you for five more days,” Claire said.
“I am sorry if I have inconvenienced you. Would you prefer I return later?”
“No, no, that is not necessary.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake,” Louisa said. “Claire, stop this nonsense and show Mr. Knightly the garden.”
Coloring, Claire gestured to the door. “Would you care to see the garden, Mr. Knightly?”
“Thank you, I would.” Jacob offered her his arm and was gratified that she took it after only a momentary hesitation. He could not explain why he was acting this way; he had never felt so tongue-tied or nervous in his life. Even when he had first proposed to her, his usual confidence had been beneath the surface. But now? She held his heart and his happiness in her hands. What would she do with it? His palms began to sweat.
Claire shivered as they stepped outside. “Are you chilly?” Jacob noticed and asked. “Would you like me to fetch your shawl?”
“No, I am fine. I will adjust in a moment. I enjoy the freshness of autumn.”
Jacob admired how tanned her skin had become. “You have been spending time out of doors.”
“Yes. I have taken charge of the garden area.” She gestured around them. “We haven’t yet tackled the lawn, but I’ve been tilling and planting seeds in this area. Most of the flowers will not bloom until spring, but I am enjoying the sight of the tilled soil. There is an inherent promise to it.”
“I am looking forward to showing you the gardens at Maberly, the ducal estate. My mother takes an active role in cultivating them as well and is justifiably quite proud. I have mentioned you to her, and she is eager to meet you.”
Claire fell silent at the mention of his family. Jacob swallowed; this was not a good sign. He began to harden to heart by degrees.
She gestured toward some trees. “I am hoping to eventually put in a wilderness walk through those trees. It would assist Sara in her science lessons. She enjoyed the story of how you taught Peter and Michael potential and kinetic energy.”
“For the love of God, Claire,” Jacob said, pulling her to a stop. “Put me out my misery. Do you have an answer for me, or do you need more time?”
Claire stared at his chest; she clenched her hands against the memories of caressing its breadth vibrating through her fingers. Snapping her mind away from such thoughts, she said, “I have an answer for you.” Her voice was soft.
Jacob stepped away from her and turned his back to compose himself. All indications of her refusal were written on her face, her posture, her very essence. Turning back to her, he said, “I will say now before you give your answer that if it is a negative one, I will not give up. I will continue to pursue you. Telling me no will not rid you of me.”
Her eyebrows arched. “Are you intending to bully me into submission? Is that your idea of a marriage proposal?”
“It is an unfortunate reality that one cannot live without one’s heart. As you possess mine, I have no choice but to remain in your life. I love you, Claire; I will not give up on you, on us.”
“It cannot work,” she said.
“I disagree.”
“We have always disagreed on matters of importance.”
“Then defend your position. Why can it not work? Give me one of those lists you are so fond of.”
“Very well, but it is you who is fond of lists,” Claire replied. “Firstly, there is the Governess Club. We have just established ourselves here and are gaining a reputation. I will not jeopardize all of our efforts.”
“I see no reason why they cannot continue here at Ridgestone,” Jacob said, taking a step toward her. He needed to be close to her, close enough to kiss. “That point is moot.”
Claire narrowed her eyes and took a step away. “Secondly, there is no guarantee you will remain so generous. You will have influence over the fate of our endeavor.”
“How so?” A step closer.
A step away. “Upon marriage, all of my property will revert to my husband. You will once again be the legal owner of Ridgestone and will have the authority to evict my friends.”
“Another moot point,” Jacob replied. “I have already had my man of business draft a marriage settlement that leaves Ridgestone in your name.”
Claire blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I have no wish or desire to own Ridgestone. I will live here with you, but you will be the legal owner. It was your dream to be here as its mistress and owner; I will not take that from you.” A step closer.
“Oh.” Claire was flummoxed. She hastily took a step away. “But I haven’t finished paying you for it.”
Jacob shrugged and took a step toward her. “Then keep paying me.”
“That doesn’t make sense. My money would be your money, so in essence, I wouldn’t be paying you at all.” A step away.
“Every payment you make I will put into a trust for our daughters so none of them will find themselves in a situation like yours.” A step closer. “While we will never live in the first stare of fashion or comfort, I am wealthy enough to modestly support a wife and family.”
A step away and Claire felt a tree at her back. She swallowed. “Our daughters? Have you no wish for sons then?”
Jacob stepped closer once more and braced himself with one arm above her head, cupping her cheek with his free hand. “I wish for healthy children with you, male or female. I will be the most fortunate man alive if I had you, sons, and daughters, but believe me when I say what I wish most for is you. I will not disappoint or fail you or our children in the way your father disappointed and failed you.”
“My father didn’t disappoint or fail me,” she whispered.
He ran a thumb over her cheekbone. “Yes he did, my darling. I cannot fully condemn him, as it brought us together, but you should not have gone through what you did. I dedicate my life to your happiness and security.”
“Still, it cannot work,” she said.
“Why not?”
“Because you are a duke’s son,” Claire burst out. “Just look at the difference in how we are dressed. You were raised in riches and greatness; I was raised in this. You are a duke’s son and I am the daughter of a country squire, a nobody.”
Jacob swallowed. “You are the woman I love, the woman I will have as my wife. These things you mention? They are meaningless. All I am wearing are clothes; they are nothing. Would it make you see reason if I weren’t wearing them?” He pulled away and shrugged off his coat.
“What are you doing?” Claire asked as he pulled off his cravat and began to unbutton his waistcoat.
“Showing you that underneath these clothes, I am just a man. You are just a woman and I am just a man, Claire.” The waistcoat joined the other clothing on the ground. “These things are frivolous trappings. Yes, life is easier with them, but they are not necessary.”
“Jacob, stop,” she said as he began to tug his shirt out of his pants. Claire’s eyes darted around them, and she placed a hand on his chest to prevent him from removing it. “Someone might see.” Heavens, her fingers tingled from the heat of his skin through the linen; the hard muscles pounded with the rhythm of his heart. Claire licked her suddenly dry lips, imagining the taste of his skin on her tongue.
He gathered her hand in his, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “I am just a man, Claire, nothing more, nothing less.”
“But what will you do here?”
Jacob shrugged. “Whatever I want. Whatever you want. I can manage the estate so you can be freed to teach. I can teach our children to manage estates and other skills that may be necessary in their lives. I could be your dancing master. I could help Miss Hurst teach Latin and Greek. But mostly I could be your husband, your partner. I could be yours, Claire.”
Claire looked into his eyes. “Could we actually do this?”
“Do you love me?” Jacob’s face was serious.
She nodded. “So very much.”
“Then yes, I believe we can. Or at least,” he added with a playful smile, “we could certainly have some fun trying.”
Claire laughed. “Then ask me again.”
Jacob bent one knee and looked up at her. “Miss Claire Bannister, will you take me as your husband, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, lacking a title, no matter what clothing I am wearing or not, and despite my birth, over which I had no control?”
Claire nodded. “I will.”
“Praise be,” Jacob said. He stood and gathered her in his arms and finally, finally kissed her breathless.
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BONNIE’S STORY
An Excerpt From
My dearest Claire,
Felicitations on your betrothal to Mr. Knightly. I am simply overjoyed for you, for there is no one more deserving of happiness than you. Does he by any chance have an unmarried brother you can mention me to? I am almost too embarrassed to admit how much I giggled at my pitiful joke. We are in much need of levity at Darrowgate these days.
I sincerely wish that I could be with you during the planning of your wedding. I simply cannot justify leaving my charges at this time. The upheaval that would be caused by my departure, so soon after the tragedy that claimed their parents, would devastate them. Henry walks around for all appearances an old man with the weight of the world on his shoulders; a younger, more solemn viscount I have not seen. And Arthur—poor Arthur. He continues to cling to me; we have not heard him utter a sound since that day and his thumb sucking returned shortly after the funeral.
There is more, however, and I can feel my cheeks heat with indignant anger just thinking about it. I have oft heard the term “fair-weather friend” but had yet to experience it. Indeed, I feel ashamed to be placed in the same category as these people, as I am sure you, Sara, and Louisa will as well.
The servants have been abandoning Darrowgate—abandoning Henry and Arthur, if I am to be blunt. The guardian chosen in the late Viscount Darrow’s will has yet to arrive and Mr. Renard refuses to release any money to pay wages on the grounds that it exceeds his authority. Exceeds his authority, indeed! For more years that I have been a governess here, the man of business has always paid out the servants’ wages. Several of the maids here send money home to their families; I know the stable master has a wife and three young mouths to feed, and he is only one of many in such a situation. Exceeds his authority, indeed! Yes, I know I am repeating myself, but it bears so. That is clearly a sign of how distraught this situation has made me.
With this in mind, can I truly blame the servants for leaving an uncertain prospect? Part of me does. Have they no loyalty to Henry or Arthur? Or to the viscountcy? Most have been here longer than I and yet they have fled at the first sign of trouble. How can a boy of eight years be expected to manage a household? I am not sure which angers me more: their disloyalty to the viscountcy or their callous abandonment of two young children entirely unprepared for life as orphans. Has honor and integrity disappeared amongst the servant class?
I must be completely honest with you, dearest Claire; even from this distance I can feel your steady gaze on me, silently asking me questions and patiently waiting for me to answer. Your concerns are not unfounded. I have not fully recovered from the incident either. There are times when I wake in the middle of the night hearing the screams of the horses mix with those of Viscount and Viscountess Darrow. Have you ever noticed how similar the sounds of screaming humans and horses are? And at times the memory of the coach mangling before me is so real I fear I could touch it. Even now, the sound of a coach approaching paralyzes me. I refuse to force the boys to ride in one, but I wonder if that is more for my sake than theirs.
Of course I am aware that recovery is likely to quicker away from Darrowgate, but I refuse to abandon Henry and Arthur in their present condition, even if I were not suffering my present abhorrence of coaches. Remaining here until the guardian arrives will be best for everyone, I believe. Hopefully the wait will not be much longer; it has already been over a month since the accident.
Please convey my regrets to Louisa and Sara for not being able to fulfill my part of the Governess Club at this time, but as I described, present circumstances are not ideal. I do beg you, however, please do not mention my own struggles. I would not wish any of you to concern yourself with this. There is much to occupy yourselves with your wedding and establishing our club’s reputation. I will recover; it is only a matter of time.