The Tempting Of The Governess. Julia Justiss

you, Mrs Wallace. Will I also meet my new charges this evening?’

      ‘No, the Misses Glendenning have already retired. Their nursery is further down this corridor. Mary, here, will show you to it after she brings up your breakfast in the morning. Goodnight, Miss Overton.’

      That was it? No welcome, no ‘let me know if you need anything’? Olivia swallowed hard. Yet another reminder that she was no longer a guest to be accommodated, but simply another employee.

      ‘Goodnight, Mrs Wallace, Mary.’ She smiled at the maid who, apparently startled by her notice, smiled back—before she caught the sharp eye of the housekeeper fixed on her, dropped a quick curtsy and scurried out.

      Lighting a candle—fortunately, the derelict house seemed to at least provide candles—against the gathering gloom, Olivia shivered as she sat on the bed. The stone walls seemed as chilly as her greeting.

      She hoped the poor children’s room was more inviting. In any event, this house needed a large infusion of light and cheer, and beginning tomorrow, she was going to provide it—regardless of what her distant employer and his stiff-necked housekeeper might want.

      She could use some cheer herself. As the weariness of long travel loosened the tight grip with which she’d been containing all the devastation of loss, grief and fear for the future bottled up within her, she felt tears begin to trickle down her cheeks. Alone, with no one to witness her breakdown, she wrapped her arms around her pillow and wept.

      Some time in the night, as she huddled in her bed, counterpane pulled up over her head for warmth, Olivia woke with a start, conscious of a sense of alarm. What had roused her from a deep, exhausted sleep?

      Pulling the covering from over her head, she heard it again—a soft, distant, mournful noise that sounded almost like—weeping.

      The hairs rose on the back of her neck. Did this near-empty house contain—ghosts?

      Given its gloom, she wouldn’t be surprised if the manor’s halls were trod late at night by wraiths of the unfortunate monks who’d been murdered during its seizure. However, as she told herself stoutly that supernatural spirits were only a myth, the sound continued.

      Might it be coming...from the nursery?

      After lighting a candle and throwing on her thick dressing gown, Olivia walked out of her chamber into the hallway, where the sound grew louder. She followed its increasing volume down the hallway, to halt before a closed door, which must be the nursery. Because she was certain what she heard was the sound of a small child crying.

      After rapping on the door, she walked into the night-dark room, where the wavering light from her candle fell over two small girls. The larger one had her arms wrapped around a smaller one, who was weeping piteously.

      At her entrance, the sobbing stopped abruptly and both children froze. Then the older girl released her sister and jumped from the bed to stand protectively in front of her. ‘It was me crying! Don’t beat Sophie!’

      Taken aback, Olivia said, ‘Beat her? Why on earth would I beat her?’

      ‘Because she woke you up. Mrs Wallace says we are never to disturb anyone at night, because she doesn’t have enough servants to take care of this big house and they need their sleep. Most ’specially, we are not to disturb the master.’

      ‘And she has you beaten if you do wake someone up?’

      ‘Yes. But Sophie is so cold, she can’t help crying.’ Her own lip quivering, the girl added with an almost desperate defiance, ‘We’re both s-so cold.’

      ‘Don’t be afraid. I have no intention of striking you,’ Olivia said, walking nearer. Frowning, she inspected the large room, which contained only two small beds side by side, a dresser, and a wardrobe, with a large open area that must serve as a schoolroom. Much like hers, it, too, was more sparsely furnished than its size warranted.

      ‘I’m Miss Overton, your new governess,’ she continued as she reached the girls. ‘You must be—Elizabeth...’ she motioned to the bigger girl ‘...and Sophie?’

      The standing sister curtsied. ‘Yes, ma’am. We’re sorry we woke you up. So...you aren’t going to beat us?’

      ‘Certainly not.’ Her frown deepening, Olivia fingered the thin cotton blanket on the bed. It might be June, with full summer nearly upon them, but the stone abbey walls held in the chill like an ice cellar. The girls, too, wore only thin cotton nightgowns.

      ‘Goodness, no wonder you are frozen. Come here, both of you!’

      Untying her robe, she sat on the bed. Pulling the girls into her arms, she settled one on each side of her and wrapped the thick garment around all of them.

      It didn’t quite meet in the middle, but the girls were small enough that she was able to almost completely cover them as they clung to her, their need for warmth obviously stronger than their fear of being so close to a stranger.

      ‘Haven’t you told Mrs Wallace that you are cold at night?’

      ‘Oh, yes, ma’am,’ Elizabeth said. ‘The very first night, when Sophie woke up crying. But she said we were in England now and we would have to get used to it.’

      ‘Used to it? You grew up on an island where it is warm all the time, didn’t you?’

      ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Snuggling closer, the little girl said, ‘It was always sunny, too! It’s so dark here and it rains so much.’

      ‘I’ve never been to your homeland, but I’ve read that it’s beautiful. Full of exotic birds and trees and beautiful flowers. After we get you warmed up, you must go back to sleep. Then tomorrow, when we get acquainted, you must tell me all about it. Now, let’s see if I can find you more blankets.’

      Shrugging off her robe to leave it around them, she padded to the chest, shivering in her thin linen night rail. She looked through all the drawers, which contained only an array of lightweight, cotton clothing. She went then to the wardrobe, but it stood empty.

      She had no idea where the household linens might be kept and certainly didn’t intend to rummage about the dark to try to find them. Still—she couldn’t leave the girls with nothing but that worn excuse of a blanket to cover them.

      Walking back to the bed, she pulled her robe from around the girls and donned it before urging them to their feet and enfolding them against her again. ‘You shall just have to spend the rest of the night in my chamber. We’ll find you adequate blankets tomorrow, when I can talk with Mrs Wallace.’

      Sighing, the younger girl pressed closer. But Elizabeth piped up, ‘Mrs Wallace won’t like that. She says everything must be in its proper place. We aren’t allowed to move things, or touch things, or go into any of the other rooms besides the nursery.’

      ‘Don’t worry. I’ll deal with Mrs Wallace.’

      If the housekeeper were such a fanatic about order, she’d do a better job of dusting, Olivia thought. Being short-staffed was no excuse for slovenliness.

      She ushered the girls down the hall and into her room, then helped them climb up on the big bed. Moving them to the middle, where she could be reasonably sure they wouldn’t roll off in the night, she settled the thick counterpane around them and hopped into bed herself.

      She smiled as she noted that Elizabeth had arranged herself protectively on the far side of her sister, giving Sophie the warmer place next to Olivia. What a brave little champion she was.

      ‘Go to sleep now, girls,’ she said, blowing out the candle.

      ‘Thank you, Miss Overton,’ Elizabeth whispered into the dark.

      ‘You are very welcome, sweetheart. Sleep well.’

      As soon as she settled herself on the pillow, the four-year-old Sophie snuggled close to her