A Very Unusual Governess. Sylvia Andrew

      ‘Please, Edward! Miss Froom may be unkind, but we ought not to be the same.’

      Edward was about to refuse, but he looked at Lisette’s face and his expression softened. He said reluctantly, ‘Very well. She can stay the night. Now off with you. I want to speak to Miss Froom.’

      Miss Froom departed the next morning with pursed lips, a month’s salary and a carefully worded letter for her agency. Pip was beside herself with glee, but her uncle was not so happy.

      ‘Stop that war dance, Pip and try to think what on earth we’re to do now! We’re in a mess! Who the devil will look after you now that Miss Froom has gone? I can’t leave you alone here, but I shall have to go to London occasionally.’

      ‘To see that lady?’

      Edward coloured angrily. There had been an unfortunate incident in the hectic rush of the past two days when Pip had accidentally seen him with Louise. What was worse, she had overheard a footman’s comment about her. It was not the sort of thing that should happen and he had been both furious and ashamed. He said now as sternly as he could, ‘I’ve told you to forget that lady, Pip. You’re not supposed to have seen her. If I hear you mention her again, there’ll be serious consequences. Understood?’

      ‘Yes. I didn’t like the look of her much anyway. So why do you have to go to London?’

      ‘I have business in London,’ he said curtly.

      Lisette, the peacemaker, saw that her uncle’s patience was rapidly wearing thin. She said to Pip, ‘Edward looks after our money, Pip. Not just his own but all the family’s. And he has talks with important people at the Foreign Office in London. He really does have to go back sometimes.’

      Pip was unabashed. ‘All right, Edward. You’ll have to send for another governess, then. But choose a young one! A pretty one.’

      Edward shook his head and said with decision, ‘On no account! You’re too much of a handful, midget. I’ll choose someone with her mind on her work, not some pretty flibberty-gibbet whose sole aim is to set her cap at the first eligible bachelor who happens along. She’d be more nuisance than she’s worth.’ He sighed and went on, ‘I’ll write off to the agency today, but it will be at least a week before we hear anything. And then there’ll be interviews…It means I shall have to postpone some important meetings, but it can’t be helped.’

      Lisette followed him out of the room. ‘Edward, I’m sorry we’re such a burden to you,’ she said. ‘I’m sure we could manage without a governess for a while. I can look after Pip.’

      Edward’s habitually sardonic expression softened into a rare smile. Much as he chafed at the restraints that had been forced on him by the care of his two nieces, he was very fond of them both. Lisette’s sadness worried him. She was too young to be so serious. ‘Pip needs a firm hand and a lot of attention,’ he said gently. ‘And I want you to have fewer things to worry about, not more.’

      ‘Pip will always listen to someone she likes. She still misses Mama and Papa. She needs kindness as well as firmness, Edward.’

      ‘Leave it to me, Lisette. I’ll make sure I find someone who will know how to deal with her. Not another Miss Froom, I promise.’

      The following Tuesday, blissfully unaware that the Barracloughs had already taken up residence, Lady Octavia Petrie said goodbye to her father and Cousin Marjorie, took up her groom, and set off for Wychford with a sense of excitement out of all proportion to the event. Apart from one stop to rest the horses, she wasted no time, and when she arrived at the gates of the house the hour was still comparatively early. She looked up the drive, which led away curving and twisting through an avenue of trees. It was very strange. She felt a tug of recognition, a stirring of adventure. The place seemed to beckon to her…

      ‘Take the gig back to the inn in the village, Will,’ she said making up her mind. ‘It isn’t far to the house and it’s a glorious day. I’ll walk the rest of the way. You can fetch me in a couple of hours.’

      When the groom demurred Octavia said impatiently, ‘Don’t be such an old woman! I shall be perfectly safe. Mr Walters has engaged a full staff for the house, including a housekeeper. I can’t believe there’ll be any villains among them, can you? Off you go!’

      Octavia watched Will’s familiar figure disappear down the road, then walked through the gates. The weariness of spirit that had dogged her for months slowly lifted as she walked up the drive, and she was filled with a sensation of release, a feeling that she was in an enchanted world. She smiled. Perhaps she was under the spell of the Witch of Wychford! On either side were magnificent old trees, some of them with branches hanging low, their foliage touched with gold, scarlet and brown with glimpses of a deep blue sky above. Here and there a bright midday sun flashed and sparkled through the leaves, dazzling her with fairy gold. She walked on towards the house, gazing about her with delight. It was as if she had drunk a glass of champagne, or been wafted off to a land of fairy tales…She nearly jumped out of her skin as a voice from above said,

      ‘He won’t have you!’

      Octavia stopped and looked up. The sun blinded her and it was a moment or two before she could make out an elfin figure perched on one of the branches. ‘I beg your pardon?’

      ‘He won’t have you. You’re too young and pretty.’

      ‘How very kind of you to say so!’

      ‘He said you’d be more trouble than you’re worth.’

      ‘Did he, indeed? How was he to know that? Though I’m not sure I fully understa—’

      ‘He’s looking for another Miss Froom, but I wish he’d have you. You look far more interesting.’

      ‘Er…thank you again. I think.’ Octavia pulled herself together and made an effort to begin a more sensible conversation. She asked, ‘Forgive me, but may I ask who you are?’

      ‘I’m Pip. Philippa Barraclough.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘It’s rude to say “what”. Miss Froom got very cross with me for saying it.’

      ‘But…but what are you doing here?’ stammered Octavia. ‘You’re not supposed—’

      ‘You mean I should be inside? On a glorious day like this?’

      ‘Oh, no! That’s not it. No sensible person would want to be inside on a day like today. That’s not what I meant—’

      ‘I’m exploring. We’ve only been here a few days, and yesterday I explored the other side of the house. It’s a beautiful house. Have you seen its chimneys?’

      Octavia gave up trying to be sensible. She was enjoying this bizarre conversation. It all seemed to be part of the madness of the day. ‘No,’ she said. ‘Will you show them to me?’

      A little girl dropped out of the tree. Black curls tumbled over a pointed face. The child was thin, but crackled with energy and spirits. Great grey eyes, sparkling with life, gazed at Octavia, examining her with critical interest. What she saw seemed to satisfy her. ‘Come on!’ she said, and set off.

      Octavia laughed. ‘Right!’ she said and followed.

      Pip suddenly stopped. ‘Look!’

      Octavia obediently looked, then gasped with pleasure. On the other side of a small lake lay Wychford, a rose-red house nestling among lawns and trees, its windows twinkling in the sun. Its somewhat crooked timbers and a small round tower to one side gave it a lopsided, slightly quizzical look. A friendly house, an enticing house…a magic house. And on top…‘Barley-sugar sticks!’ she cried.

      Pip looked immensely pleased. ‘I knew you’d recognise them,’ she said. ‘Oh, I do wish Edward would have you! He’s at his wits’ end, you know.’

      ‘I’m sorry to hear it. Why is that?’