Page 8 of The Governess’s Carnal Temptation

“But she was so gifted. This young girl, Lady Esther, could become a scholar. She is ten but understands everything without much explanation and reads far above her level. Indeed, in some ways, she already outshone me.” Lydia’s heart ached as she thought of the sweet-natured young girl who’d blossomed under her tutelage. She meant what she said; the young girl could change the world if given the right tools.

“A lady will never be a scholar,” Caroline said gently, placing her hand on Lydia’s knee, patting her as though Lydia were a sulking child who’d been denied a candied orange peel.

“But she could. Many girls could. Instead, they must be content with refining frivolous accomplishments such as water coloring and embroidering masses of doilies and coverlets nobody needs,” Lydia said, talking herself into a rage.

“That is acceptable,” Caroline murmured though she disagreed with such customs. “You must remember this from now on.”

“If there is to be a “from now on”,” Lydia replied, letting out a puff of air that made her feel like she was falling in on herself. “I shall need to go to the Registry office.”

“Registry office?” Caroline exclaimed and sat ramrod straight. “Surely not. That place is improper. They’ll place you with all sorts of riffraff and make it so you’re ruined on top of unemployed.”

“Caro,” Lydia said with a small smile. “You are ever so dramatic.”

“Perhaps a little, but you know as well as I that they will not find you proper employment. They’ll take your fee and send you off to some dirty hovel where you will be dealing with the worst of the worst and probably end up washing floors instead of teaching. No, you can do that here if need be. You take care of father and the shop. I’ll find work instead. I can find a position as a maid. I know how to do the work.”

Lydia’s head snapped around. “You? No, why would you? You will be seen as past your prime when you take employment at some nobleman’s house. As though your chance at finding a husband is gone, and it’s not. You’re only young, please. I will solve this. Somehow.” The idea that Caroline should give up her chance of finding a husband and having children because Lydia’s inability to find a good source of income to support them twisted her insides.

“I do not mind. Indeed, I’ve already reconciled myself with caring for our father until his time comes. I have the same education as you; we can both support ourselves,” Caroline said with a shrug. A strand of auburn hair fell into her face, and she blew it away with an unaffected ease that told Lydia her sister meant every word. She no longer believed she’d marry either.

“You must not give up hope. You do enough here with looking after father and the shop. You’re needed here. Let me worry about finding employment outside of the home. Please, do not yet give up a future filled with happiness and love,” she almost begged, her hand on her sister’s.

“You have,” Caroline said without a hint of malice.

“You know why,” Lydia replied, glancing out the dirty window. Streaks from last night’s rain had eaten through the dirt, leaving clear lines that allowed the light in. She closed her eyes, willing the familiar thoughts of her old heartache to stay in the void into which she’d banished them. Then, to her great relief, the postman arrived outside and knocked. Her heartbeat sped up as she rushed to the door; her round white dress swished between her legs as she ran.

“Miss Haddington,” the postmaster said. “Fancy seeing you in town again. And already a letter,” he said and winked at her. She’d already been in town for more than two weeks but thus far hadn’t had occasion to speak to him. He was an old codger but always wore a smile on his lips. He handed her a small, neatly folded letter that had been sealed with a wax seal, and she took a deep breath. This was the sort of seal the nobility used. Could this be an answer to her advertisement?

She bade the postman goodbye and sauntered through the teashop and back to the kitchen, where Caroline again stirred their supper. Lydia examined the seal but only made out the letter Q before tearing the seal. She drank in the words as though they might save her from certain death, and as she understood their meaning, she raised her left hand to her heart and closed her eyes.

“Lydia?” Caroline called from the narrow doorway between the sales room and the kitchen. When Lydia looked up, a smile appeared on her lips.

“Good tidings, Caroline. You shall not have to find employment, for I have. And lucrative employment at that.” She hurried into the kitchen, the precious letter still in hand. “Faith, Caroline. This is the letter I prayed for. They are offering enough money to sustain the entire family, and they did not even ask about my previous placement.”

Lydia grabbed her sister’s wrist. “We are saved. Indeed, we are.” Then, her smile faded as she recalled the details of the letter. Caroline’s shoulders instantly tensed.

“By Jove, there is something wrong. What is it? I can tell from the strain on your forehead.”

Lydia glanced at the letter again before raising her eyes to meet Caroline’s.

“They wish me to start at once. If I agree, I am to pack and board a coach. I am to send word by messenger, so they might expect me. They will pay me back for the journey.”

“At once?” Caroline exclaimed. “You’ve been here but a fortnight. Surely you do not have to depart already. Why the urgent need? It strikes me as peculiar.”

“There is nothing peculiar about it. Mrs. Funny – the housekeeper – writes that her employer is a widower with a nine-year-old daughter for whom he requires urgent care.” The word widower struck Lydia at her very core, for she knew what it was like to be the daughter of a man who’d lost the love of his life. She saw the pain her mother’s passing had inflicted on her father etched on his face even now, fourteen years later. Even if she hadn’t been desperate for employment, a letter such as this would have interested her.

A little girl without a mother. A father broken-hearted… It was the placement where she could do some good. Caroline, however, did not appear to feel the same.

“Please stay, Lydia. We know nothing of these people,” she ripped the letter from Lydia’s hands and read it quickly. “The manor is outside Hatfield, in Hertfordshire, hours away. If something were to happen to father, how would you get here?”

“No faster or slower than at any other placement. I’ve always been hours away. What is another two or three?” Lydia replied matter-of-factly.

“It does not even say who her master is. It could be anyone. It could be some horrid person who dares not write his name because they are known to mistreat their servants.”

“Or it could be a nobleman who does not wish to spread the word that he wants a governess lest the ladies of the ton throw themselves at him, offering to fill the void,” Lydia fired back and took the letter. She folded it up and tucked it into her pocket. “In any case, the highborn often have their servants undertake their correspondence.”

Caroline pursed her lips. “You would know.” Her tone carried a hint of suppressed anger. If this was due to Lydia’s desire to leave or because she was upset her sister so readily went into the unknown in the name of the family she didn’t know. In the end, it did not matter. She had made up her mind. Nevertheless, this letter was a sign. A sign that she was not yet done being a force of good in this world. She might never marry or have children of her own, but some children in the world needed her.

And this little girl, this half-orphan, needed her most of all. She knew it with a certainty born in her heart that soon flooded every part of her. This place in Hertfordshire was where she was meant to be. She knew it with absolute certainty.