Page 24 of The Governess’s Carnal Temptation

“Don’t touch it; it will bite and carry disease,” Mrs. Funny declared. “We have traps all over the house for these little beasts.”

Lydia squatted in front of the little mouse who gnawed at something, its tiny nose moving rapidly. “It won’t harm you. It’s just as scared as you. Come here, little one.” She extended her hand and snatched the mouse up before it had a chance to fun away. Slowly, she ran her hand over its head, feeling the terrified shivers from the little animal’s body. She turned to Mrs. Funny.

“See, he’s scared. I shall let him out in the garden.” She extended a hand to Mrs. Funny, who took it and climbed off the chair, never taking her eyes off the perceived menace.

“You’re too kind,” she said. “I’d whack it with the broom to shoo it out if I were you.”

Lydia did not say that given Mrs. Funny’s reaction, she’d likely not even manage to snatch up a broom before apoplexy took her out.

“They only seek to live as we do. I shall return shortly,” she said and got into her slippers. Then, she made her way down the hall, momentarily taken aback by the similarity of the scene before her to the nightmare she’d had. She shook the chill in her bones and made her way to the stairs when a door clicked beside her, and she turned. For a slip of seconds, she saw Charlotte’s round face shining in the candlelight, and then, the door fell shut again, and Lydia smiled.

“So that’s how you came to be in my chamber,” she said to the mouse as they walked on. “You wear meant to scare me. Well, if Lady Charlotte seeks to scare me out of this house, she shall have to work harder than that.”

With that, Lydia shook her head and made her way into the garden, releasing the critter who scurried off into the light. Turning back, she glanced up at the grand manor house and, to her surprise, saw Nicholas standing in the window. He wasn’t looking at her but rather stared out into the night. A desire to go to him and take away whatever ailed him overcame her.

Lydia shook her head. These were dangerous thoughts, thoughts she had to put an end to. Now.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The mouse, it turned out, would not be Charlotte’s last attempt at frightening her. Over the next fortnight, a seemingly endless collection of critters made their way into Lydia’s everyday life. Spiders appeared in her shoes, a frog leaped out of her bed one night, and even a collection of tadpoles magically materialized in her wine goblet one night.

Lydia survived it all with her dignity intact. From Nicholas, who remained eager to mend their broken friendship, she learned these tactics had scared off many a governess. Determined not to be one of them, Lydia ignored the assault and carried on with her task: teach Charlotte.

The girl was bright and soaked in information like a sponge. A redeeming quality that rendered her, as Nicholas had so aptly put, difficult personality more bearable. In addition to her obvious dislike of her father, she was spoiled, bossy, and used to getting her way. If she hadn’t been such an eager pupil – and if the pay had not been so ample – Lydia might have given up. Alas, Charlotte learned eagerly and had a particular affinity for biology. She loved identifying flowers and animals; thus, Lydia had made it a habit to take her on a walk daily when morning lessons were finished. That morning, she had decided to take Charlotte to the lake. They shared a mutual love for the water, and hoped it would allow her to break through the little girl’s walls.

“Would you like to feed the geese? The Cook packed some dried bread for us,” she said, holding up the satchel. Charlotte shook her head.

“No, bread is not good for geese anyhow. Besides, I want to see the field maple over yonder. Isn’t it pretty?” She pointed at the huge tree up ahead, and Lydia smiled. It was one of the most majestic trees in the garden. Its long branches extended over the water like a mother’s arms reaching for her children. It was both beautiful and sad. She nodded, and they made their way toward it when Charlotte looked up.

“Were you and my father really good friends?”

Lydia blinked and peered at the girl; one hand raised to shield against the sun.

“We were a long time ago. Before he was duke.”

“He worked in your father’s teashop,” she stated, and Lydia nodded.

“He did for a long time. How do you know? Did he tell you?”

“No, the servants were talking while stoking the fire. They like you, you know.”

Lydia smiled. Aside from the awkward air between her and Nicholas and Charlotte’s devilish ways, she loved life at Queensberry manor. The servants – Mrs. Funny especially – were kind to her, and she enjoyed living there. Hearing that she was well-liked was a tonic to her soul.

“It’s kind of you to tell me that, Lady Charlotte.”

The girl’s nostrils flared. “I don’t understand why they’re so fond of you. I think you’re rather dull and boring.”

Lydia suppressed a chuckle; even when conveying a compliment, the girl could not resist sneaking in a slight. She’d grown accustomed to this by now and knew it was Charlotte’s way of coping. The girl was alone in the world, except for a father who did not know how to connect with her, and servants paid to look after her. She was angry; Lydia had been too when her mother passed, but she’d had a father and sister to live for. And Nicholas.

When they got to the maple tree, Charlotte stopped and looked up. “Its leaves are so pretty. Could you help me pick one so I might dry it in my book?”

Lydia dipped her head to the side, glad to have Charlotte ask her for help. The child was fiercely opposed to taking anyone’s assistance and, thus far, had never asked her for anything.

“Of course. I could pick a few, and we can string them all up to hang in our classroom like a garland.”

Charlotte bobbed eagerly. “Yes, look to the right. There are a few pretty ones.” She pointed up, and Lydia saw just what she meant. She made her way to the tree and was about to pick a leave when she noticed Charlotte hadn’t joined her.

“Lady Charlotte?” she called, but her heart sank. From the corner of her eye, she saw the girl squatting, and then, the sound of a heavy object hurling through the quiet mid-morning air made her heart sink. A rock! The little imp was throwing a rock at her. Lydia ducked out of the way as the projectile flew over her head, and another followed at once. “Lady Charlotte, stop this at once,” she called, one hand in front of her head to ward off the objects. Then, a thud above her, followed by the unmistakable humming of a beehive, made her blood run cold.