To the turrets and the walls;
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson: Maud (1855)
‘Welcome to Pendragon Hall.’
Maud jumped. She had been watching a small copper butterfly dancing among the daisies on the chamomile lawn, when a deep voice spoke behind her.
One hand to her bodice, she spun around. ‘Oh!’
On the gravel drive stood Sir Dominic Jago.
He was silhouetted against Pendragon Hall, half in light, half in shadow, against the setting sun. In the golden light, the house behind him looked like an illustration from a fairy tale.
Maud drew in her breath. Never had she expected her place of employment to be so enchanting. Her previous post had been in a far bigger house, but it did not match this for pure charm. She had imagined a version of a thatched farmhouse—a long house—but for once, her imagination had failed her. Pendragon Hall was a large hall, built of golden-grey stone with a steep slate roof, chimneys as tall as turrets and arched stone windows. It seemed to glow in the sunset.
The house was situated some miles inland, away from the coast, but the fresh breeze ruffling the daisies—and her hair—was rich with the scent of the sea.
Now the wind blew her new employer’s dark hair away from his forehead, which creased as he studied her with his penetrating eyes.
Beneath her bodice, Maud could feel the rising and falling of her corset. Ever since what had happened in her previous post, she had been more easily startled. She jumped if someone entered the room unexpectedly, or even at a loud noise. Her nerves were strained. Yet it wasn’t only that which unnerved her now. It was Sir Dominic Jago, her new employer, with that aura of energy around him.
He inclined his head slightly. ‘My apologies. I had no wish to startle you.’
‘Not at all, Sir Dominic.’ To her relief, her voice sounded steadier than she felt. She wasn’t quite sure how to address him. She knew that knights used their first name with their title, rather than their surname, yet it seemed strangely intimate to address him so.
The corner of his mouth lifted. ‘So, you know my name.’
She nodded.
His gaze was as intent as it had been during their first encounter, through the glass of the train window. ‘And I know yours.’
Maud’s stomach turned over.
‘Perhaps I ought to have introduced myself on the train,’ he said. ‘I guessed who you were. The new governess.’
He had a very faint Cornish accent, Maud noted, yet there was no doubting he was a gentleman. He had received his title of knight, Martha had told her in awe, from Queen Victoria herself, for services rendered to the Crown. He was young to have received such an honour. The West Cornish Railway Company would never have been developed without his drive and determination, Martha had said, and Queen Victoria was known to be most enthusiastic about travelling by train.
He appeared younger than Maud had expected from Martha’s description. She had still anticipated a much older, perhaps portly, grey-haired gentleman to have accomplished all that Sir Dominic Jago had done before he was thirty-five years old, for she guessed that was about his age.
‘I appreciated your help on the train,’ Maud said to him. ‘The situation had become most uncomfortable. I hope you did not give up your own seat.’
‘It’s not the first time I’ve travelled in the engine.’ He brushed at his hair. ‘Coal dust doesn’t bother me. I want all passengers to be comfortable on the West Cornish Railway Line.’
‘It’s a marvellous train,’ said Maud, frankly. ‘I enjoyed the journey, in spite of the altercation. The conductor told me you’re the owner of the railway.’
‘Not entirely. I am one of a group of local investors who are committed to taking control of our railway lines and trains. Properly managed, they will bring prosperity to Cornwall. Prosperity, and something even more important.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Hope, Miss Wilmot,’ he said. ‘Hope is the engine of prosperity. Our aim is to have the West Cornish Railway Line enable travel by train all the way from London to Land’s End.’
‘Here be dragons,’ Maud said, before she could stop herself.
‘I’m sorry?’
Maud bit her tongue. Their conversation so far had been surprisingly easy, as if they were not new acquaintances at all, let alone governess and employer, and the phrase had slipped out. ‘It’s what they used to put on old maps. When the end of the land was marked and what lay beyond it was unknown. “Here be dragons.”’
The corner of his mouth lifted. ‘There are no dragons here, Miss Wilmot, in spite of the name of the estate. At least, I hope not. Have you had a chance to familiarise yourself with Pendragon Hall?’
‘Not the house,’ Maud admitted. ‘I was shown to my room, of course, and I hoped to see Rosabel, but she was having her afternoon rest and I needed some air after the train journey. I’m afraid I have been outdoors for some time. These gardens are so beautiful.’
She turned towards the rolling green lawn, where the butterfly still danced. The grass was well manicured, edged with flower beds, but it had a wildness to it. Climbing roses tangled together, thick with thorns, as if to protect a sleeping princess. There were woods on the estate, too, as well as leafy orchards that she had seen on her way from the small village station of Penponds. She’d half expected Sir Dominic to travel to the house in the carriage sent for her, but he had not appeared.
She’d questioned the coach driver, who had chuckled. ‘Sir Dominic’s got no time for travelling in carriages. Rides his horse to the train station and back, he does. A stallion. Goes like the blazes.’
‘So you like to be out of doors?’ Sir Dominic asked her now, unexpectedly.
‘Very much,’ she replied. ‘I am no botanist, but I enjoy studying the natural world. And I am particularly fond of butterflies.’
‘Butterflies. Do you collect them?’
Maud shuddered. ‘If you mean sticking them with a pin, certainly not. But I like being able to identify them and know their names. Did you know that butterflies return to the same place? You can always rely on finding them again.’
‘I wasn’t aware of that fact, no,’ he drawled.
Maud flushed. Once again, to her amazement, she had been far more at ease with him than she had expected and spoken more freely than she ought. ‘I’m sorry. I often provide too many facts.’
The corner of his mouth quirked again. ‘As a good governess should.’
‘I also enjoy walking,’ Maud added. She wanted to make that clear, at the outset. ‘Both in the daytime and in the evening, too. Sometimes at night.’
He raised an eyebrow. ‘Can butterflies be seen at night?’
She smiled. ‘Not butterflies. Moths. And…’ She swallowed hard, keeping down the anxiety that instantly threatened her equilibrium. ‘Sometimes, I find it difficult to sleep.’
His dark eyes seemed to become even more perceptive. ‘A woman being out alone at night is unusual.’
‘I hope that won’t be a difficulty,’ Maud said. The night air was the only antidote, sometimes, to counteract the terrible nightmares she had been experiencing recently and that had not been getting any better. Increasingly, her sleep was disturbed. The fear of the nightmares often kept her awake.
‘To the contrary.’ Sir Dominic bowed. ‘I appreciate your interest in the outdoors. But if you would care to come indoors for a while, Miss Wilmot, we can begin our interview for your position as governess.’ He indicated towards the house, now sunk into evening shadow. ‘If you will accompany me?’
Her agitation built as she kept up with his long-legged stride across the lawn and gravel drive, indoors to a room on the ground floor of Pendragon Hall. It was a large room lined with leather-bound books, which normally would have sent a warm tingle of delight through her. Even at first glance, she could see the works of Shakespeare and Gibbon. On the burgundy walls above the wooden wainscot panelling hung fine prints and paintings, too, but she could hardly take it all in.
Maud lifted her chin. ‘There appears to have been some mistake, Sir Dominic.’
He frowned as he moved behind a green-topped leather desk. He removed his coat to reveal a dark wine-coloured waistcoat and a pristine white shirt that showed no trace of coal dust. ‘What kind of mistake?’
‘I thought I had been accepted into your employ already.’ Her voice quavered a little. ‘Have I come all this way just for an interview?’
‘Ah.’ He drummed his fingers on the desk. ‘Please sit down, Miss Wilmot. There are a few matters I need to discuss with you that are…sensitive. I wanted to do so in person. It is not my intention to ask you to return to London before you have even taken up your post. But it’s possible that after hearing what I have to say that you will consider this position…unsuitable.’
‘This is very unusual,’ Maud replied indignantly, trying to mask her anxiety.
‘If you will allow me to explain…’
Maud smoothed out her skirts with hands that only trembled a little and took a seat on the carved wooden chair. He could not make her change her mind about taking the post.
It was her only hope.
Opposite her, Sir Dominic moved to sit in the high-backed wooden chair located behind the desk. He pushed it back and crossed one long leg, but his relaxed posture belied the intensity of his eyes that still seemed to blaze into her.
‘First, your character references are excellent. It is the main reason I employed you.’
‘Oh,’ Maud said faintly. They were Martha’s references, of course. It pained her to have to use them, but her only comfort was that her references for teaching the Melville boys, of whom she had become very fond, would also have been excellent, if their uncle had not been quite so cruel.
She forced her attention back to Sir Dominic.
‘You will find Rosabel an easy charge, I expect,’ he told her. ‘She has experienced some ill health over the years and, of late, she has become timid. I can barely encourage her out of doors.’
‘Is Rosabel in poor health now?’
He shook his head. ‘She is not robust, a result of her history of illness, but she is well enough now. I’ve had the local doctor to see her. He says there is nothing physically wrong.’
Maud frowned, perplexed. ‘Fresh air is good for children. I will certainly see if I can encourage her out of doors.’
‘Thank you. You will understand, then, why I am pleased to learn you enjoy fresh air yourself,’ he said. ‘The grounds here are extensive and I hope you will be able to make good use of them with Rosabel. There are a number of gardens and orchards, and there are woods, too. She is not to spend all her time at lessons.’
‘I entirely agree,’ said Maud. She hesitated for a moment. She had planned what to say all the way on the train. ‘About Rosabel’s lessons…’
‘They are to be the usual lessons for a girl her age. Music, languages and drawing.’
‘That is not enough,’ Maud said firmly. ‘Young ladies need to learn much more than music and drawing, Sir Dominic.’
The corner of his mouth lifted. ‘Do they indeed? Are you a bluestocking, Miss Wilmot?’
‘I am a passionate supporter of female education,’ she retorted. ‘If that makes me a bluestocking, so be it.’
‘Do not mistake me,’ he said. ‘I would not be educating Rosabel if I, too, did not believe in women’s education.’
Maud clasped her hands together. ‘If she is in my charge, I would like to ensure that Rosabel is educated not only in the refinements befitting a lady, but that her mind, too, is broadened. Geography, mathematics, Latin and botany would also benefit her.’
He drew back his head. ‘Latin? Botany? Are you qualified to teach them, Miss Wilmot? Did you study such subjects?’
‘Certainly. My mama and papa were somewhat unusual in that they were committed to female education. My father was a schoolmaster. That’s why my sister and I had such a good education. We followed the same curriculum as the boys at the school, even though we studied at home. My sister…’ She hesitated, unable to call Martha by her own name. ‘My sister and I both studied hard and became governesses.’
He steepled his fingers as he regarded her from across the desk. ‘Rosabel is but seven years old.’
‘It’s never too early to learn,’ Maud assured him. ‘Do not think I would make it too challenging or unpleasant for her. On the contrary, Sir Dominic. My goal would be for Rosabel to love her lessons, or, even better, to not realise she is having lessons at all.’
‘How so?’
‘I have my methods,’ said Maud. ‘A child’s imagination must be awoken in order to learn.’ She leaned forward. ‘Please. Let me try my teaching methods with Rosabel. If she does not take to them, I will not pursue the curriculum. But surely she deserves the chance?’
‘You are most convincing.’ He deliberated for a moment. ‘Very well. You may have free rein.’
‘Thank you, Sir Dominic.’ She breathed out with relief. It meant so much to her, to be able to try her new ideas in the schoolroom. ‘You won’t regret it.’
‘I hope not, Miss Wilmot,’ he murmured.
‘I encourage you to observe my methods,’ she said. It was valuable for parents and guardians to be involved in their children’s education, yet so few parents ever did so, in her experience. Some of her charges had rarely seen their parents. ‘You will be welcome in the schoolroom at any time.’
‘You can be assured I will take up that offer, Miss Wilmot.’
He fell silent for a moment. ‘Now we have settled the academic pursuits, there are some other matters. Rosabel’s mother, Sarah, died not long after she was born.’
He spoke without expression, yet she sensed the grief that still lingered in him. There was a bleakness behind his eyes.
‘I’m very sorry,’ Maud said with sympathy.
He nodded his thanks, but that was all. ‘It is particularly because of her lack of maternal care that Rosabel requires a governess. She has a nursemaid who is devoted to her and will remain here at Pendragon Hall. But Rosabel also needs a woman of good character, such as yourself, not only to guide her in academic instruction, but also in manners and etiquette, in her moral education.’
‘Of course.’ Maud bit her lip. ‘That is a usual part of a governess’s duties.’
‘For Rosabel, it will be a most important part. As her father, I can guide her in some parts of her moral development, but not in all, and, of course, a governess is someone who can provide her the guidance she needs in the absence of a mother.’
‘You have not considered remarriage?’ Maud asked, innocently.
The change in Dominic Jago’s face was startling. On the platform, when she first saw him, it had been as if no glass was between them. Now there was a stone wall. ‘Is my marital status of interest to you, Miss Wilmot? Is it a reason you took the post?’
Maud shook her head, bewildered. ‘I knew that you were a widower, Sir Dominic. But it is certainly not the reason I took this post. Why would it be?’
‘What were your reasons, if I may ask?’ His voice had hardened.
‘My reasons…’ She faltered.
‘Indeed. Why did you leave your last post?’
Maud took a deep, shaky breath. ‘I wanted a new start,’ she said, uncertainly. ‘A position in the country.’
‘I see.’ He didn’t sound convinced.
He stood and went to the window. When he swung around his jaw was set. ‘This is a delicate matter, Miss Wilmot, but I fear it must be addressed at the outset.’
Maud began to tremble. Somehow, he’d found out that she wasn’t Martha. Somehow, he had heard what had happened in her employment by Lord Melville.
No one will believe your story.
Sir Dominic moved back behind the desk, but remained standing. His expression was more severe than when he had appeared out of doors, in the garden.
‘I am forced to speak bluntly,’ he said. ‘You realise that there was a delay before I contacted you and offered you this post.’
‘Yes,’ Maud whispered, trying to still her trembling body.
‘There have been other governesses.’ He exhaled. ‘Two, in fact.’
The trembling in her body turned to shaking she could barely disguise.
‘As a widower, I have discovered myself to be the subject of some…romantic notions.’ He laid his hand flat on the desk. His signet ring glinted. ‘It seems to be a fantasy of certain governesses that they might marry the master of the house.’
‘Oh!’ Maud felt as if he had thrown cold water over her.
‘Surely you have heard of such things?’ he asked curtly.
‘Indeed I have.’ As his meaning sank in, the shaking in her body disappeared as anger made its way through her limbs. ‘But in my experience, it is less to do with the expectations of the governess and more to do with those of the master of the house.’
He lifted his eyebrow. ‘Is that so?’
‘Women are all too often blamed for the behaviour of men.’ She was unable to keep the bitterness from her voice. She knew, all too well.
‘I can assure you that the previous governesses left of their own accord when they realised the position was not what they hoped it might be,’ he said evenly. ‘I merely wish to be honest and straightforward with you about this matter, Miss Wilmot, from the start.’
She jerked up her chin. ‘As do I. And you can be assured, Sir Dominic, that I have no romantic notions. None whatsoever.’
‘On the train I saw that you were reading a book of fairy tales,’ he said. ‘I thought you may be a woman who gives way to fanciful ideas.’
Maud tried to keep her voice steady. ‘I have an imagination. That is all.’
He looked at her keenly. ‘I do not seek to offend you.’
‘You have judged me without knowing me.’ Maud could barely contain her anger. ‘Simply because I am a governess.’
He drew back. ‘I meant no judgement. Please accept my apology if that is how you have taken it. My goal was to be clear about the nature of your employment.’
‘You have been very clear, Sir Dominic.’ Maud raised her head high. ‘You can be sure I will not pursue any…romantic notions about you.’
He inclined his head. ‘I regret if I have caused you offence.’
‘Perhaps it is better that the matter has been discussed.’ That was true, at least.
‘Are you willing to take the post under these conditions?’ he asked, after a moment.
‘Certainly, Sir Dominic.’ Maud stood to face him. He was a foot taller than she was, but she met his gaze, eye to eye. ‘Believe me, I would take the post under no other.’
* * *
Dominic drummed his fingers on the desk. His interview with the new governess—if it could be called an interview—had not gone entirely as planned.
Miss Martha Wilmot.
She had left the room without banging the door behind her, but he got the distinct impression she had been strongly tempted.
He picked up the letters from the table and tucked them into the drawer of his oak desk. The drawer still open, he stared down at them, perplexed. Her letters of recommendation had been excellent. By all accounts, she was an outstanding governess. Exemplary, in fact, to the point of being almost bland. There had been nothing out of the ordinary. Yet the impression he had formed of her upon reading the letters of reference was quite different from his perception of her on first sight.
When he had first spotted her from the platform, she had been looking out of the train window unguarded, with such interest and curiosity. So eager, so alive. His attention had been immediately drawn to her. She had reminded him of a bright-eyed wren, an image emphasised by the colours of her clothing, in shades of brown and grey. Drab colours, no doubt suited to a governess. Her hair, too, was light brown, her eyes green. They were not remarkable, yet at the moment their eyes met, Dominic had experienced a moment of unmistakable response to that eagerness, to those bright eyes that revealed, beneath the drab colours, a lively and enquiring mind.
In the conversation that had just taken place—for as she had pointed out, it could not be called an interview—he’d been forced to be blunt about his previous experiences with governesses. He’d already decided that upon her arrival it would be essential to warn the new governess against any fancies she might have, and when he’d seen Miss Wilmot’s book of fairy tales, it had only seemed more pressing.
But he’d affronted her. It was a risk he’d known he would have to take, to quell any possible misunderstanding right from the start, in light of what had happened before, but he had sounded more pompous, and more arrogant than he’d meant. It was damned unfortunate. And her response…
Dominic frowned.
She had been more than affronted. She had ably defended the position of a governess and she was right: all too often male employers took advantage of the women in their employment. It was a matter of which he was aware and it was one of the reasons he’d decided to be straightforward about what had previously occurred. He wanted absolutely no confusion on that score. But he’d mishandled it. And he’d sensed there was more to it, for her.
He’d witnessed pain, and a kind of terror, in her eyes when the subject had been raised. It had been quickly disguised, but it wasn’t an expression he cared to see in those bright eyes.
He closed the desk drawer.
Miss Wilmot was a puzzle. She had modern ideas about women’s education, too. He was willing to see the results from her methods before he made any judgement upon them.
He wanted the best for Rosabel. If Miss Wilmot could bring the roses back into his daughter’s cheeks, he would have no quarrel with the new governess. And she had made it perfectly clear that her interest lay only in teaching children.
It was a relief.
Dominic drummed his fingers again absently on the green leather top of his desk. He wondered how soon he would forget the enchanting expression he’d first seen, unguarded, in those bright eyes.
* * *
Maud washed her face and hands with rather more vigour than necessary in the white basin and pitcher provided in her new bedroom. She doused her cheeks again and again, tendrils of hair about her forehead dampened and curled, but her anger didn’t abate.
Romantic notions!
How dared Sir Dominic Jago suggest that she had taken on the post as the new governess simply because he was a widower! Did he think himself so handsome? Did he expect all governesses to drop at his feet? Or that she would find him so hard to resist? Did he really believe she had come all the way to Cornwall, not for employment, but to catch a husband?
If only he knew.
Hot tears joined the chill water on Maud’s cheeks.
Governesses sometimes married their employers, it was true. It happened. But it would never happen to her.
Marriage—to anyone, let alone the master of the house—was not in her future. Not now, not ever. Any promise of it had been torn away. No man could accept her and she could never explain. A future with a husband and a family would never be. Any dreams of such happy-ever-afters had been stolen from her.
She’d vowed, instead, to educate the children in her care with all the love and encouragement she had to give. She would dedicate herself to her vocation.
It was the only way she could go on.
Not all governesses considered themselves professional women, but Maud did. Some thought being a governess a last resort of penniless gentlewomen. But it was so much more to her. The work of private teaching was changing. Members of the Governesses’ Benevolent Institution not only received support in dire straits, but their membership was also beginning to share their experiences and expertise among themselves. Recommendation of teaching ideas and textbooks was becoming more common. Yet governesses still had the reputation of mere husband-hunters in disguise.
Or worse.
Maud shuddered.
Sir Dominic’s warning had cut her to the quick. She was already sensitive about such matters. Worse, much worse—she forced herself into the severest honesty—she had instantly liked him. That energy, she had to admit, was attractive and there was no arguing with his handsome dark looks. Had she looked at him with the eyes of a husband-hunter, even for an instant? No, it had been the ease with which they had conversed in the sunlit garden that had made her begin to believe that her new position as governess might prove to be a post she could truly enjoy.
Now she wished she could take the very next train away from Pendragon Hall, especially when what he suggested about governesses was, in her case, so far from the truth.
But perhaps—her brain began to tick—perhaps this post was ideal for her. Why, it was practically providential. A master of the house who had no interest in romance or marriage might not suit every governess, but it certainly suited Maud.
She threw more water on her face, washing away the tears. She would stay at Pendragon Hall. And she would, for the sake of her new charge, make the best of it.
Carefully she dried her face. The towel was of a fine snowy-white linen, clearly of good quality. In fact, all the appointments of her bedroom were the same. The room was large and airy, with tall arched windows that looked out over the gardens. There was an oak bureau and wardrobe that was far too big for the number of dresses she possessed. She only owned three: her grey cotton and her brown wool, for workday attire, and her dark green cotton, for special occasions. There had not been many of those, so it was still in good repair.
To one side of the room was a particularly beautiful four-poster oak bed. All in all, the room was far grander than the room she had occupied beneath the attics at her previous post.
Her bedroom had a connecting door to the adjacent schoolroom. She had glanced in when she had first arrived, but retreated, vaguely disappointed. It was well-furnished and decorated, but somewhat lacking, in her view. She had noted plenty of toys, a dolls’ house and a rocking chair, tables and chairs, but less of the equipment she considered essential to teaching than she had expected. The previous governesses had left no imprint on their surroundings, it seemed.
Perhaps they had been too busy having romantic notions about Sir Dominic Jago.
Maud smiled ruefully. At least her sense of humour was returning. Of all the governesses in the world, she was the last to have harboured such ideas.
The master of Pendragon Hall was safe from Maud.
Folding the towel and hanging it carefully back on the rail, she glanced in the mirror and smoothed back her hair. Wisps were escaping from the severe bun she wore, softening her profile. Most unfortunate. She’d not been wearing her bonnet outside and her complexion appeared to have caught another freckle. Perhaps not wearing her bonnet on the way to Pendragon Hall—for she had sat next to the coach driver in the open air, rather than inside the Jago carriage—had not been the best idea. But she did love to be out of doors.
If she could, she would help Rosabel learn to love it, too.
She crossed to the schoolroom door. Rosabel’s bedroom was on the other side.
It was time to make the acquaintance of a little girl who needed her care and to forget about her infuriating father, Sir Dominic Jago.
Maud pushed open the schoolroom door.