Get thee hence, nor come again.
—Alfred, Lord Tennyson: Maud (1855)
‘Dominic!’ Averill exclaimed. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to listen to any more of a governess’s fairy tales!’
‘There are two sides to every story, Averill,’ Dominic replied curtly. ‘Miss Wilmot has a right to tell hers.’ He glanced at Maud. ‘But perhaps we should return to the house first.’
‘Ooh!’ Before Maud could move, Averill set her hoops whirling as she stepped between them. ‘I knew there was something about you, something sly, from the minute I met you.’
Maud stared at her. Her throat choked. Then all the words she had kept inside for so long surged out of her. They could not be stopped. Not any longer.
‘How can you be so cruel to a member of your own sex?’ she asked, shaking. ‘I am a governess, but I am also a woman, just like you. I do not deserve you to be so unkind to me, simply because I have found myself in more straitened circumstances than yours.’
Averill’s cheeks reddened. ‘How dare you speak to me like this!’
Maud raised her chin. She had nothing to lose. Not any more. ‘I didn’t ask to have fallen on hard times. It was tragedy that propelled my sister and I into poverty. I took up employment as a governess, not merely because I needed the wages, but because I believe in education. If women are not educated, they are forced to rely upon the mercy of others. Without an education, women have no chance in life. You ought to thank governesses, not revile them.’
Averill gave a little laugh, turning from Dominic to Lord Melville in an attitude of amazement.
‘Governesses ought not mingle with their employers as if they are their social equals,’ Averill declared.
‘Perhaps,’ Maud replied. ‘But I have always done my job with pride, no matter what you think of it, and nothing you can say can diminish my belief in my work.’
Taking a deep breath, she put one foot in front of the other until she was in front of Lord Melville. Every step seemed like a mile.
‘And you, Lord Melville.’ Her voice had disappeared, becoming a whisper. She forced herself to raise it, even as she trembled. ‘You treat your staff as if they are nursery toys, not people. You disgust me. You are the worst of all kinds of men. What you did to me, what you do to all the female servants in your employ, is utterly immoral. You have said that a governess must be upstanding and of good moral character. What of your character? What example do you offer your nephews?’
‘That’s libellous.’ He didn’t meet her eyes.
‘Is it?’ she demanded. ‘You and I both know what occurred when I was in your employment. You are the one who has libelled me.’
She clutched at her bodice, her breath coming in heaves. She felt as if she might be sick as the memories came flooding back. She couldn’t go on.
Then her breath came in a huge gust. ‘But that is your story. It is not mine.’
She lifted her chin. ‘No matter what happened to me, no matter what you did to me, you cannot take away my story. And it is this. That I can still see the beauty in the world. That I can hope for happiness. You cannot destroy that for me. You can only destroy it for yourself.’
Maud turned to Dominic. Everything she had ever wanted to tell him, she tried to communicate now, through her eyes. For a moment, it was as if they were the only ones in the woods, just as it had been when they had seen the White Admiral.
But no more words would come. Her throat was too choked, with tears, with pain. There was no way she could ever tell him of her feelings now. That the love she felt for him was so much more than infatuation. Only the night before, she’d reached out and kissed him. But everything between her and Dominic had been tainted now.
No one will believe your story.
Her breath kept coming in painful gasps, as she bent, trying to control her nausea. There was no way she could explain or defend herself, without having to reveal the full, unspeakable horror of what had happened.
A twig snapped as Dominic moved. His hands were clenched.
‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, at last. It was all she could say, with Lord Melville looming so near. ‘For everything.’
She lifted her eyes, but their connection had snapped, broken, like a twig underfoot.
Now Dominic was staring at Lord Melville, with an expression Maud could not make out.
Without another word, Maud turned and stumbled away as fast as she could.
* * *
Dominic took a stride forward on the path. Miss Wilmot had almost disappeared, a moth-grey flicker among the trees.
‘How extraordinary,’ Melville drawled. ‘I told you that governess was a storyteller.’
Dominic tensed. Blood pumped through his veins. He wanted to go immediately after Maud, but he couldn’t let it pass. Not the way he spoke about her. The man had to be put in his place.
He shoved his fists deep into his pockets as he swung back towards Melville. ‘You caused Miss Wilmot harm. Then blamed her for it.’
‘Steady on, Jago.’ Melville’s tone remained smoothly cordial, as if they were at their club. ‘Surely you want to know if your servants lie to you. She admitted it herself. You don’t know anything about her.’
Dominic shoved his fists deeper into his pockets. ‘I know everything I need to know about her. I know her from her stories.’
His voice was calm now and it reflected a sudden certainty, deep-seated and sure. He’d told Miss Wilmot that he was a man who trusted his own judgement and he knew it now, for certain. He trusted her, too.
Melville’s lip curled. ‘I’m surprised you believe a governess’s tattle.’
Dominic couldn’t restrain himself any longer. He reached out and grabbed the horsewhip from Lord Melville’s hand. ‘I suggest you leave my land, Melville.’
The other man took a step back. ‘You can’t be serious.’
‘Deadly serious.’ Dominic tightened his grip on the horsewhip. ‘And if I hear that you ever repeat those repugnant lies about Miss Wilmot again, I’ll be coming after you, with this.’
Melville shook his head. ‘You’ll regret making an enemy of me, Jago. I know you need money for your Cornish railway.’
‘Do your worst. I wouldn’t go into business with you even if the railway never runs again,’ Dominic told him in disgust.
Melville shrugged. ‘I’ll be forced to let everyone know your trains are a bad investment, then. They won’t run for long without my money.’
‘You would sully the reputation of anything you touch,’ Dominic retorted. ‘I wouldn’t take your money if it was the last penny in England.’
His blood was still pumping as he swung back on to the path. Miss Wilmot had vanished now.
‘Dominic!’
Taking a deep breath, he turned to look at Averill, saw shock and sympathy in her eyes.
She put a gloved hand on his arm. ‘I’m sorry. Please believe me. I didn’t realise the full story.’
He couldn’t stop to talk to Averill. Not now. She’d caused enough trouble. ‘I have to find her.’
Averill nodded.
Dominic threw aside the horsewhip and strode away.
* * *
Maud ran through the woods. She heaved in one breath, trying to draw in strength and peace from the forest. Then another.
Her legs felt like quivering aspic, but still she ran. Moments ago, in front of Lord Melville, they seemed to lack even the strength to hold her up, let alone carry her further through the woods.
No one will believe your story.
Dominic had heard all those terrible allegations being made about her. That she was a liar. A man-chaser. A thief.
The shame of it.
How could he believe her now? Well, of course he wouldn’t. She’d lied to him, after all. She had admitted it to him. Now he would be the same as all the other men she had encountered, all the other masters of the house. He would take the side of Lord Melville.
There was no question of Lord Melville’s reputation being besmirched, only hers. He’d accused her of theft. Of being of low moral character. That she was not a fit person to be around children.
She stopped and took another aching breath as the thoughts pounded in her brain. Her ribs hurt from running as if a knife had pierced them, just below the heart. She put her hands to her forehead as if she could drive the thoughts out. But still they came.
Dominic would judge her guilty. He would not want her to care for Rosabel, not any more. All the moments they had shared together would count for nothing now.
All there was between them had been erased at one blow. She could not help the sob that burst from her throat at that moment, choking her, suffocating her like a fist about her heart. She clapped a hand to her mouth, stifling the sobs. She leaned against the oak tree, letting it bear her up when nothing in her own frame would. Finally, the shuddering sobs stilled. She managed to stand upright, telling herself firmly, bleakly: it was nothing but a dream, one that had just turned into a nightmare. But it would have made no difference, in the end.
No matter what her name, she was just a governess.
No one will believe your story.
Maud stumbled on. These were the woods where she had shared those fairy-tale moments with Sir Dominic. But that was all it had been—a fairy tale.
Perhaps he was laughing about her now with Lord Melville. Perhaps he had been treating her the same way that Lord Melville had treated her. As a plaything. As a nursery toy to pass the time. If he had been toying with her, his ploys were worse than Lord Melville’s advances. He had lulled her into a false sense of security. He’d shown an interest in her true self, or at least that was what she had thought. But it might not have been so at all. Perhaps it had all been a pretence.
It couldn’t be! a voice in her head cried out. What they had shared together, surely it couldn’t be counterfeited.
No! Maud shook her head. She would not fall prey to such doubts about Dominic. He was not the same kind of man as Lord Melville. She knew that of him, deep in her mind, her heart, her soul. But she was lucky that it had not gone too far.
She loved him, but he could never love her. He never would, not now, not after what he had been told about her, and she could never tell him the truth.
She picked up speed. Her shuddering weakness was past. She raced through the woods, the wildflowers dragging at her skirts. She hurried across the lawn towards Pendragon Hall and stopped.
She had imagined living there for ever, she realised, her fingers clenched. Oh, how could she have been so foolish? She had started to imagine so much. Now those dreams and hopes were shattered. She had not found sanctuary. She had not found a home.
With a cry, she turned away from the house and ran down the long drive.