Virtue of a Governess (20 page)

“Thank you.” She smiled faintly, a little afraid by the depth of sincerity in his tone. Again her heart seemed to liquefy and she frowned at the response. Was this love or compassion? How could she know? “Let us walk.”

Without waiting for his assistance, she scrambled down from the gig, nearly tripping on her skirt in the process.

He quickly joined her, but his ready smile and usual witty remarks were lacking as they stepped though the dry undergrowth. She’d become used to the crisp clean air of the bush now, of the loud native birds that squawked their song instead of trilling it like English birds did. Sometimes she missed the damp density of the woods back home, but she also found a strange contentment in the harsh Australian bushland. Perhaps she identified with the struggle of the plants and animals to survive, the hardiness of their existence. Yet, their beauty still showed through as though resolute in letting nothing diminish their right to live.

Nicola stopped to study the unusual yellow flowers growing on a large bush. “Do you know what this flower is called? I’ve seen it before and always admired it.”

Nathaniel stopped close beside her and studied the long cylindrical flower, that stood straight and proud amongst its needle type leaves. “It’s called a Banksia, I believe. There are red ones too, I’ve seen them along the coast, and they also have different shapes.”

“It looks spiky.” She reached out to touch it gently and found the spikes were actually soft petals. “No, they aren’t sharp.” Smiling, she glanced at him under her lashes. “I should have brought my sketchbook. I’m ashamed at the small amount of sketching I have done since arriving. My mother would be displeased if she were alive.”

He stood quite still. “Do you miss your parents?”

“Yes, very much. My father was such a tremendous man, generous, knowledgeable, amusing. I adored him with every ounce of my being. His death was a blow I thought I would never recover from.” She looked up from the flower into his eyes. “You’re the first person I’ve been able to admit that to.”

“Then I am deeply honoured.”

“Oh, I’ve talked about him before, many times, but I’ve never acknowledged the pain of his death. When my father died, for the first time in my life I felt lost, without guidance, unloved.” Nicola walked on, amazed she’d spoken so personally to him. Her parents were a treasured part of her that she rarely shared with anyone, fearful of the ache that talking about them brought, but surprisingly, she had mentioned them to both Hilton and Nathaniel, and she didn’t know what to make of it.

“Look at this one, Nicola.”

She turned as he bent down near a large rock. Crouching beside him, she examined the fragile pink flower on a long stem. “No, don’t pick it, let it be.” The yellow wattle he’d given her on Frances’s birthday picnic was still in her diary, to add another would be accepting too much. “I wonder what it is called.”

“It has the appearance of an orchid, don’t you think?”

“Why, yes.” She grinned at him. “You are knowledgeable about flowers.”

“No, not really. Though I grew up having access to a very impressive and varied collection of plants from all over the world. My mother collected them. She had an immense green house built adjoining the conservatory at the side of the house. My father used to rage at the amount of money she spent on paying botanists. She commissions them to find her beautiful and rare plants.” He carefully touched the tiny pink and white spotted petals. “The odd time I spent with her in the greenhouse was the closest I ever came to being her son, instead of a person sharing her house at holidays.” He stood abruptly and cleared his throat.

She watched him, the sudden stiffness of his manner, the pulse ticking along his jaw. He still suffered from his parents’ actions. “We should go back.”

“Yes, we don’t want to become lost.” He took her elbow and led her back to the gig.

“Perhaps next time we can bring a picnic and I’ll remember my sketchbook.” She didn’t look at him as he helped her up onto the seat.

“Will there be a next time, Miss Douglas?” His eyes widened and there was humour lurking in their violet colour.

“Not if you call me Miss Douglas there won’t be.” She raised her chin in mock severity. “I have become quite used to you being unconventional and calling me Nicola.”

“So you forgive me for taking you out today?” He grinned, climbing onto the seat.

Adjusting her skirts so that a few inches of the leather seat showed between them, she nodded. “I will overlook it this time, but Mr West,” she paused to stare at him, “play straight with me and we’ll never have a cross word, I promise.”

“For you, Nicola, I will do anything.” He took her hand and kissed it, then straightening, he flicked the reins and they made for the Home.

* * * 

Adjusting her position on the stool, Nicola scrutinised her sketch of the front of the Home. The house was in proportion and again she counted the windows to make sure she had included them all. The trees and gardens were positioned properly… She added a few more strokes to the tallest tree on the right of the house and using the side of her little finger shaded below it to add dimension. Yet, something wasn’t quite right with the curve of the drive. Head bent, she concentrated on fixing the problem.

A small brown butterfly fluttered over the page and landed on the edge of the sketchbook. She paused, admiring its hues of orange-brown. The still November day was heavy with sunshine, which brought out the bees and insects. Another glance up at the house scared the butterfly away and she watched it flitter among the recently planted gardens, which thanks to their new gardener, were taking on shape and colour.

“Excuse me, Miss?”

Nicola turned on the stool and brought her hand up to protect her eyes from the sun’s glare. “Yes, may I help you?”

The woman, carrying a small portmanteau, walked closer. Her bonnet, a little old fashioned shaded her face, and her faded grey dress emphasized her thin figure. “Is this Mr Belfory’s Governess Home?”

“That’s correct.” Nicola stood and placed her sketchbook on the stool. “I’m Miss Douglas, the manageress. Are you looking for a place?”

“I’m Sara Bent, lately arrived from the Shoalhaven district. My last position finished earlier this month and I’ve been unsuccessful in gaining another. I have a letter from my employer.” She awkwardly held her luggage and tried to open it.

“Miss Bent, please, we shan’t worry about that right at this moment.” Nicola stepped closer and laid a calming hand on the woman’s arm. Up close, Nicola realised the woman was young, no more than twenty at the most, and for some reason Sara Bent reminded her of herself when she first arrived. “I’m sure sharing a pot of tea will be a far better way for us to become acquainted. Shall we go inside?”

“Miss Douglas, first I must be made aware of the rate.” Worry clouded Miss Bent’s blue eyes. “You see, I recently sent some of my wage home to my mother and I also paid the arrears off my debt to the FMCE Society.” Her shoulders sagged. “Although I am very relieved to have cleared my mind of these debts it has left me short. I assumed I would find a place again straight away. However, it’s been harder than I thought. I’ve known no other family than the one I met onboard the ship. They, the Macalister’s, hired me when their nurse failed to show up as we were ready to sail.”

“Why did you leave that family?”

“The mistress decided to return to England to finish her daughter’s education. She felt I couldn’t teach the finer arts such as painting and music to the satisfaction she required.” Miss Bent raised her chin. “The fault was not mine, Miss Douglas. Mrs Macalister had grand notions that weren’t suitable to a small country place such as the Shoalhaven.”

“Come, you can tell me more inside. It is too hot out here.” Nicola collected her sketchbook and together they walked towards the front door.

When they reached the first step, Miss Bent stopped. “I can pay a pound for my lodgings. How long will such an amount allow me to stay?”

Nicola’s heart softened at the sight of this proud young woman. “If you paid me a pound, Miss Bent, how much would that leave you until you secured another situation?”

Miss Bent lowered her lashes, a faint blush covering her thin cheeks. “About four shillings.”

“Then save your pound.” Nicola took the portmanteau from her and found it extremely light. “Is there anything is this?” She smiled, meaning it to be a joke.

Tears shimmered in Miss Bent’s eyes. “Only undergarments. I had to sell my books and…and even my clothes. I made the mistake of staying at a hotel and they charged me an exorbitant amount.”

“Never mind, we’ll soon have you put back to rights again.” As they entered the hall, Florence came out of the parlour. “Oh, Miss McIntyre, we have a new guest, Miss Bent. Can you show her up to one of the rooms, please?” Nicola turned to Sara. “I’ll order you a tray of something and would you care for a bath?”

“That would be very acceptable, thank you.” Miss Bent untied her bonnet and took it off, revealing raven black hair. She put a hand up to the lank ribbon securing her plait. “It’s been too long since I’ve been able to wash properly, especially my hair.”

“Miss McIntyre, we have some spare clothes, don’t we? Miss Bent is in need of a dress or two.”

“Yes, indeed, Miss Douglas, leave it to me. I’ll see that Miss Bent is comfortable.” Florence replied, gesturing for their new guest to precede her up the staircase.

Nicola smiled at her. “Thank you.” She lowered her voice as Florence passed. “I think she’ll be hungry and rather exhausted. Let her freshen up before the others descend on her.”

Florence gave an understanding nod.

Nicola turned away and headed for the kitchen. As always, when she received a new guest, she had mixed emotions about it. Part of her was happy to be able to provide a room to a needy lady, but then part of her found it depressing to witness such misery, such hopelessness.

She had to try harder to find these women worthwhile employment.

* * * 

Heads close, scrutinising the building plans, Nicola listened to the foreman’s explanations and didn’t realise she had a visitor until Mr Warner stood beside her. “Oh, Mr Warner.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Douglas.” He smiled, bowing.

“Not at all.”

“Meg told me you’d be down here. She says this is where you are each day.”

“Yes, things are happening at a rapid pace.” She thanked the foreman before slipping her hand onto Warner’s arm, who looked dashing today in a pale fawn suit. “Come and look at the progress of the orphanage. The roof on the dormitory has been completed, and the school room is nearly ready for its windows.” She led him between stacks of timber, roof slates and labourers, who were hammering, sawing and working hard in the afternoon heat.

“It’s all very impressive, I must say, and so quick.”

“Money has been flowing in since the ball. So many people have responded to us and it’s all thanks to you.” She smiled gratefully at him.

Hilton peered into a window opening. “Don’t thank me yet. Soon you’ll be surrounded by yelling children. How on earth will you cope then?”

She laughed, light-hearted at the success so far of the Home. “There are enough of us to manage. Some of the women are studying for their teacher’s certificate. We’re hoping the government will acknowledge us as a legitimate school and provide funding for teachers’ wages.”

“Do you ever stop, Miss Douglas?”

“Why should I stop?” She frowned. “I have so much to do.”

He looked away and walked over to inspect a pile of stone. “You will not want to leave here.”

Her enthusiasm for the project faded at his sad expression. She was being unfair to him, cruel even and that wasn’t like her. It’d been weeks since the ball and for weeks she’d been dodging his questioning gaze whenever they were together. She never allowed them to be alone and kept putting off making a final decision about his proposal. Nicola bowed her head, knowing the time had come.

“Miss Douglas.” He took her hand and she looked up into his eyes. “I knew my answer on the night of the ball.”

“How?”

“When you danced with Mr West. No one looking at you as closely as I was would have detected the subtle way your fingers caressed his shoulder as you danced.”

She jerked back. “They didn’t.”

His smile mocked her vehement denial. “Yes, they did. You might not have let your face show your feelings, but I could tell. When in love, your perception of some things becomes very clear,” he shrugged, ‘though in others not so clear.”

Shaking her head, Nicola headed back to the house. He was mistaken. “You are quite wrong, Mr Warner.”

“Please, let us be honest in this, for I hold our friendship in high regard.”

She paused by the garden arch leading into the small courtyard behind the house. Bees buzzed over the trailing roses. “I too, value our friendship.”

“I’m glad.” He took her hand again. “I would hate to lose it.”

“I am sorry I cannot marry you, Hilton, really I am. I wish I could say yes because you would be a genuine husband, a man to be proud of and one any woman would be thankful to have.”

“But you did think about saying yes?”

“Oh, of course.” She squeezed his hand. “I was quite close to saying yes. I promise you that.”

He nodded and managed a weak smile. “Then I can ask for no more.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. There is no need. We cannot rule our hearts, can we?”

“I do not love Mr West.” Her heart hammered in her chest at the mere thought. She wouldn’t surrender to Nathaniel West.

Chuckling, he leaned over to kiss her cheek gently. “Dearest Nicola, you should not deny what is nature.” He turned and swept his arm out to encompass the whole estate. “All this is noble and splendid, but to receive a person’s love, to have some form of…of connection with another, that is what makes us truly human.” He smiled and patted her hand. “Now, I must go. James and Meg are turning the ship upside down in preparation for their marriage. James’s neat cabin has been transformed with clutter, but they are happy and enjoying every second of it.”

Nicola walked with him around the side of the house to the drive and his uncle’s carriage. “Yes, I have hardly seen Meg lately. She is a whirlwind of activity at the moment. Though she was hurt that her family refused to travel to see her wed.”