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“Those little heathens have run away from me for the very last time,” huffed Miss Dunkirk.
Mrs. Trilby caught sight of Mari. “I thought I made myself very clear, Miss Perkins,” she said coldly. “Good day to you.” She motioned Miss Dunkirk to follow her. “Come, Miss Dunkirk, have a spot of tea and tell me all about it.”
Determined to learn more, Mari surreptitiously ripped one of the black grosgrain ribbons from her bonnet.
“Oh dear.” She waved the torn ribbon at the maid. “Have you a needle and thread?”
The maid gave her a sour look. “One moment, miss.”
When she was alone, Mari raced to Mrs. Trilby’s door, knelt down, and flattened her ear to the keyhole.
“I’ve half a mind to retire completely,” she heard Miss Dunkirk say. “My nerves have suffered a severe strain.”
“Please don’t retire, I beseech you!” wailed Mrs. Trilby.
“They don’t want an honest, hard-working governess, Mrs. Trilby. What they want is a ruddy clergyman.”
“A clergyman?”
“To perform an exorcism of demons. Those are not children, Mrs. Trilby. They are Lucifer’s imps in human form! And their father?Well!” Miss Dunkirk gusted an enormous sigh. “He’s the worst sinner of all.”
She lowered her voice so that Mari only caught fragments of her next words.
Stormy...changeful... Beelzebubhimself... Babylonishscarlet women.
And something that sounded very much likedamnedandbastards, though Mari was certain a superior governess would never speak such words aloud.
“Oh. My,” Mrs. Trilby replied faintly. “Sherry in your tea? No? I’ll take just a drop.” There was the clink of china and the sound of liquid being poured. “That makes four governesses in two months. I’m at my wits’ end. I’ve no idea what to do.”
“Do, Mrs. Trilby?Do?” Miss Dunkirk’s voice rose shrilly and herr’s trilled with indignation. “Why, you mustn’tdoanything. If you care for decency, if you value propriety, if you prize the unsullied reputation of this agency, you will do nothing at all.”
“You mean I shouldn’t send him a replacement? What a shocking notion.”
“That’s precisely what I mean. Make him suffer for his transgressions, I say. Somebody ought to.”
“There is, of course, the matter of the rather large fee he’s already paid me.”
“Which he must forfeit. It’s not your fault his children are ungovernable.”
There was a pause. The chime of a teacup meeting a saucer. “You know, Miss Dunkirk, I’ve had nothing but trouble from that man and his unholy offspring,” said Mrs. Trilby, a note of defiance creeping into her voice. “I’ve my reputation to consider.”
“Quite right, Mrs. Trilby. Quite right. You mustn’t send him anyone else. Not even if he crawls here on his hands and knees and begs.”
A snort from Mrs. Trilby. “I can’t imagine a duke begging for anything. No doubt Banksford believes highly qualified, morally irreproachable governesses grow on trees and may be plucked at whim like ripe cherries.”
Awhat? Mari sucked in her breath. Aduke?
Mrs. Trilby may as well have saida mysterious sea serpent inhabiting a Scottish highland lake. Ora supernatural monster patched together by a mad scientist and animated through electricity.
The daring plan she’d been forming hadn’t included anything as terrifying and mythical as a duke.
The sound of footsteps sent her running back to the parlor.
The maid handed her a mending basket and Mari refastened her bonnet ribbon with hasty, uneven stitches. She’d heard all she needed to hear.
The Duke of Banksford, of Grosvenor Square, required a governess.
And Mrs. Trilby had washed her hands of him.
