Page 7 of The Colonel's Ungovernable Governess
“And your son? Did he settle in at Harrow? Perhaps you remember that my brother Lindale and I, as well as my cousin Darcy attended the school before going off to Cambridge,” he said to make small talk while he waited for Lady Romfield to bring in her daughter so they might greet each other.
“Yes. Yes, I do recall now that you mention it. As to Andrew, he seems to have settled in. The headmaster matched him with another student to show our Andrew about the grounds.”
“And, Miss Romfield?” he asked with a bit of impatience. Although he was not pleased to have an arranged marriage thrust upon him, Edward thought of himself as adaptable, but, first things first: He must greet his intended bride. Perhaps, he thought, it was time for him to settle into a predictable life. A genteel existence. Mayhap a bit of true happiness. Darcy had achieve it with an “unpredictable” woman. Surely, he could do the same? It was possible. Perhaps.
Unfortunately, with his question regarding her daughter, Lady Romfield rolled her eyes heavenward, as if she sought divine intervention or thought to pass out. “Colonel, I truly do not know how to address our situation.”
“Situation?” Edward asked suspiciously. He knew his eyebrows arched in inquiry, but he attempted to modulate his voice: He was not interrogating an enemy spy or even questioning a fresh recruit who he had stumbled across when the man had orders to be elsewhere.
“Yes, I fear my dearest Jocelyn is above stairs. She foolishly found herself caught in the rain of a day past and has come down with a trifling cold in her head. And the chills also,” the woman added in what sounded of an afterthought.
“A cold is generally somewhat nugatory,” Edward said cautiously. “Yet, is it so bad your daughter cannot leave her bed for a few minutes for the formality of our meeting? I promise not to press her for more than a proper introduction and to make plans to call upon her regularly. I am soon to return to the north on family business and my duties to the army, and I do not think it wise for Miss Romfield and I to postpone our agreement for too long.”
Lady Romfield paled and swallowed hard. “I fear, Colonel, you have caught me in a . . . in a bit of an untruth. You see, Jocelyn does not have . . . have . . . have a simple . . . cold. Not a simple cough and fever. She has contracted . . . measles.”
“Measles?” he asked. “That could be serious.” He thought to test her. “How long has she known the disease? Customarily one becomes ill after being exposed some two weeks prior. If one counts the exposure and the early symptoms, was that not when Miss Romfield was waltzing with Lord Sizemore? Perhaps I should issue a warning to his lordship and the others with whom your daughter associated that evening. And what of your son? Has he carried the contagion to school? Heaven forbid a large number of young boys become ill!”
Lady Romfield paled. “I give you my word, sir, all precautions have been practiced.” It was then that the lady’s backbone arrived. “If these circumstances prove not to your liking, Colonel, all discussions regarding a possible union with my daughter can be terminated.”
Edward was a bit impressed with the woman and hoped her daughter held some of the same temerity. “I should not end an agreement designed by my father without first consulting him. Unfortunately, I am to be in the northern shires for a few weeks to perform my duties to the British army. Therefore, I cannot call again any time soon. However, I am assuming your daughter would be prepared to move forward upon that occasion or we may formally end our agreement. Until then, I believe it best if we both consider ourselves engaged. The earl and your husband would expect nothing less. Naturally, I am making the assumption Miss Romfield can recover by then, and she and I can conduct a conversation on whether or not we proceed or end our agreement. Please present Miss Romfield my sincere hope for a speedy recovery and my regrets for not being in a position to take her acquaintance.” He retrieved his hat and gloves and bowed to the woman.
“Thank you,” her ladyship said as she stood. “You are very kind and understanding.”
Within a minute, he had exited the house and claimed his waiting horse. “Now what?” Edward asked himself as he mounted. “The earl will not be happy with these delays, and, in truth, I am no longer so prepared to toe the line.”
* * *
Jocelyn would have preferred to remain in bed a little longer, but she was starving, and she had imposed on the good graces of Mrs. Darcy and her sister, Mrs. Bingley, long enough. Therefore, once she was dressed in freshly laundered clothes, she asked the maid to show her the way to where Mrs. Bingley and her sister might be located.
Sucking in a deep breath to steady her qualms, Jocelyn placed a smile upon her lips and entered the room the maid indicated. Both the sisters turned to look to her, but it was the one known as “Mrs. Darcy” who rose quickly to greet her. “We am so glad you are strong enough to join us, are we not, Jane?”
The other lady stood also. “Without a doubt. Come sit with us. Would you care for breakfast?”
Jocelyn heard her stomach rumble in anticipation of food. “I would appreciate joining you at the table. I am capable of paying you for both the food and the room.”
“Nonsense!” Mrs. Bingley declared. “My husband and sister would both take me to task even if I had such a thought, which I did not.”
Mrs. Darcy caught Jocelyn’s hand and led her towards a nearby place setting. “Mr. Scott, would you fill a plate for Miss . . . or is it Mrs.?”
“Miss,” Jocelyn supplied. “Miss Rose . . . Miss Rose Lambert.” One of her middle names was “Rose,” and “Lambert” was the surname of the innkeeper who had permitted her a place to sleep on a rainy night.
“You must pardon our curiosity,” Mrs. Darcy said with a sheepish grin.
Mrs. Bingley corrected, “Elizabeth means ‘her’ curiosity. My sister always loves a good puzzle.”
Mrs. Darcy chuckled. “And Mrs. Bingley is generally equally as curious, but she tends to possess more self-control than I.” The woman’s expression turned serious. “What caused you to be on the road alone? Have you no family? Please say you are not running away from a father or husband who has treated you poorly. Such would be more problematic than if you are an orphan, but know we would stand with you if someone offered you a heavy hand and you meant to escape.”
“No abuse,” Jocelyn was quick to say. “Simply an . . . an orphan meaning to make her way in the world.”
“And your parents? Do you not yet have a husband?” Mrs. Darcy asked.
“Elizabeth!” Mrs. Bingley chastised. “Permit Miss Lambert to eat her meal. Your numerous questions do not permit her time to chew her food properly.”
“I apologize,” Mrs. Darcy said with a hint of regret, but Jocelyn suspected the woman only “regretted” being required to wait, rather than regretting her curiosity. The lady said, “Enjoy your meal. Would you like to know something of Mrs. Bingley and me?”
“I already know you are sisters,” Jocelyn said with a smile, as she claimed a mouthful of eggs mixed with bits of bacon. It was all she could do not to groan in pleasure.
“We are two of the five Bennet sisters,” Mrs. Bingley explained. “I am the eldest. Elizabeth is second. Mary, who is third, is married to the rector in Lambton in Derbyshire. Mr. Ericks owes his position to Elizabeth’s husband, Mr. Darcy. Our Katherine, who we call ‘Kitty,’ resides in London with our Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. She is betrothed to a gentleman from Devon, and our youngest sister, Lydia, is married to a lieutenant in the Regulars.”
