More Than a Governess. Sarah Mallory

      ‘That would certainly be very welcome!’ laughed Juliana. ‘I suppose I could advertise.’

      ‘Of course you could! Mr P. will be in his office by now, so there will be no one in the morning room, and you’ll find paper, pens and ink there. You go and write it now, my dear. Strike while the iron’s hot, as they say.’

      ‘I will, Mrs Churwell.’ Juliana rose. ‘I will go and write the best advertisement you have ever read!’

      She ran up the stairs, but checked as she reached the top. She could hear voices in the hallway and guessed that Mr Pettigrew was meeting a client. Peeping around the door, Juliana saw her cousin making a deep bow to a tall gentleman. The visitor had his back to her, so that all she could see of the man himself was his black hair and his many-caped driving coat which added even more width to his already large frame.

      ‘Major Collingham—’ Cousin Alfred’s nose was almost touching his knee ‘—I am most honoured by this visit, sir, following on from our conversation yesterday. But you should not have come out in this rain, sir—I should have been quite happy to bring the papers to you.’

      ‘No need, Pettigrew. I had to come this way this morning. I needed to place an advertisement and thought I could do it myself and call upon you on my way. I want to get everything signed and sorted before I leave town next week; thought I was doing well, too, until the children arrived yesterday evening, with the news that their governess had given notice!’

      ‘How unfortunate for you, sir. Come into my office and I will find those papers for you.’

      Juliana drew back behind the door as her cousin led the gentleman on, but before the door closed on them she heard the stranger say bitterly,

      ‘Unfortunate? It’s damned annoying, man! Particularly now, when I need to take the children into Lancashire with me. That’s the third damned woman I’ve hired in as many months! What can be so difficult about looking after a couple of brats? I tell you, Pettigrew, I’d give a king’s ransom to find a governess who could stay the course…’

      The door closed upon the two men and Juliana stepped slowly into the hall, nibbling the tip of her finger. She looked at the footman, who was shaking out the man’s greatcoat.

      ‘Lawrence, that man—do you know him?’

      ‘Major Collingham, miss?’

      ‘Yes. Is he…is he one of Mr Pettigrew’s clients?’

      The footman shook his head as he laid the greatcoat gently over a large chest.

      ‘No, miss. But he is trustee for one of ’em.’ He added knowledgeably, ‘He is the sort of well-set-up gentlemen that people like to appoint as executor to manage their affairs when they turn up their toes.’

      Juliana smoothed her hands over her gown and said as casually as she could, ‘And, do you perhaps know where he lives?’

      ‘Oh, aye, miss. I’ve taken papers to his house in Burlington Street many a time.’

      Juliana nodded, then turned and made her way back to the kitchen, where Mrs Churwell was busy making pastry.

      ‘Well, now, that was quick!’ exclaimed the housekeeper, up to her elbows in flour. ‘Have you written your notice already?’

      Juliana shook her head, and sat down at the table.

      ‘No, but I think I have found a solution to my problems!’

      Chapter Two

      Later that afternoon Juliana put on her best walking dress of holly green with its matching bonnet and set off for Burlington Street. She was fortunate that the rain had stopped, but it remained overcast, and a chill wind stung her cheeks. Following Lawrence’s directions, she found herself staring up at an imposing double-fronted façade. For a moment her courage failed her. Then, squaring her shoulders, she marched up to the front door and knocked loudly.

      ‘Oh, come along, Juliana Wrenn,’ she muttered to herself. ‘He can’t eat you, after all.’

      A liveried footman admitted her to the house and showed her into a small study on the ground floor while he went off to carry her message to his master.

      Too nervous to sit down, she stood in the middle of the room and looked about her. The walls were lined with oak panels from floor to ceiling in the same manner as her cousin’s drawing room, but there all similarity between the two houses ended. The panelling in Major Collingham’s study gleamed and several lively hunting scenes hung on the walls. She was just wondering if any of the figures depicted could be the master of the house when a deep voice sounded behind her, making her jump.

      ‘You wished to see me, madam?’

      ‘Oh—I did not hear you come in!’

      ‘I am sorry if I startled you,’ responded the Major, sounding not a whit remorseful.

      Juliana looked at him. In her cousin’s hallway she had only seen the back of his head. Now, staring up into the harsh, unsmiling face, her spirits began to fade. He was very tall, and dressed with military precision—there was nothing of the dandy about him, she noted with approval; the long limbs encased in buff-coloured pantaloons and black boots hinted rather at the athlete. His blue coat fitted perfectly about his broad shoulders and the crisp whiteness of his shirt and cravat enhanced his dark complexion, tanned by years in the sun—she knew he had been a soldier, and guessed he had seen action in the Peninsula. His bearing was upright and looked as solid and unyielding as his countenance. His voice, when he spoke again, was tinged with impatience.

      ‘Well, madam, what can I do for you?’

      ‘I—I came because—because you require a governess.’

      Her words came out in a rush.

      ‘Then it is my secretary, Brasher, you should see. I made it quite clear in the advertisement.’

      He turned to go.

      ‘Oh, I have not seen the advertisement—and it is you I wish to see, Major Collingham.’

      He stopped and turned to face her.

      ‘Not seen the—then how the devil…?’

      His frown was not encouraging, but she screwed up her courage—she must do this for Thomas and Amy’s sake.

      ‘I am a cousin of Mr Pettigrew, the lawyer. I overheard your conversation with him this morning, about requiring a governess urgently. It—it is a fortunate circumstance for you, sir, that I am looking for just such a post.’

      ‘I see. Well, if that is the case, I am of course delighted that you have come, but my secretary can handle the details—’

      ‘But I do not wish to talk to your secretary, Major.’ She swallowed. ‘I—I want to talk to you about my terms.’

      The Major raised his black brows.

      ‘Terms?’

      ‘Yes.’ She drew a breath and put up her chin. ‘I believe you require a governess to take up the post immediately, sir. Well, I am free to do that, upon condition.’

      The Major stared at her. Juliana returned his gaze steadily, praying that he could not hear the rapid thudding of her heart. His countenance relaxed a little.

      ‘I see this is not going to be the work of a moment.’ He moved to his desk. ‘Pray will you not be seated, miss…?’

      ‘Miss Wrenn, Major.’ She sat down on the edge of the chair, facing him.

      ‘Well, Miss Wrenn, it is true that I am in need of a governess, but, as the employer, I was of the opinion that it was my place to set the conditions.’

      She did not flinch from his hard gaze. Mrs Churwell had told her to have faith in herself, and she must do just that.

      ‘In the normal course of events, yes,