Page 10 of The Precious Secret of a Loving Governess
No matter how she might speak to others, Marian knew how to get his attention. Reginald could hardly help how much he adored his daughter despite knowing that her behaviour was scarcely what it ought to have been. She was clever, but not always in a way that might make him proud. Sometimes, she was a great deal of trouble.
“Did you have a good evening?” he continued in his questions, knowing what he was leading up to.
“Indeed, Papa. Dinner was good as ever,” she replied.
“And what of your new governess? What do you think of her?” he asked, finally.
Marian crinkled her nose and looked as if she had eaten something sour. The displeasure on her face amused him but he refrained from laughing or giving even a hint of a smile.
“What am I to think other than the fact that she clearly believes herself capable of controlling me?” she asked harshly.
“Controlling you?” he inquired.
“Of course. She was so intent on proving that she is clever that she didn’t even try to get to know me,” she complained.
“I must disagree on that point, Marian. She asked what it was that you deemed excellent in a governess. You did not answer her, but that does not mean that she made no effort to learn what it was that you wished for. Do you really believe she does not care to learn about you?” he asked.
She had no retort prepared for that, recognising that her father was correct. Once more, he was mildly amused.
“Well, I still disliked her a great deal,” Marian said with a shrug of her little shoulders.
Reginald sighed, wondering if he might ever find a way to appease his daughter. She was eternally unhappy and ungrateful despite having everything that he was capable of giving to her. He couldn’t imagine how he might one day convince her to have an attitude worth being proud of.
He wished that he could understand what it was like for her as a child living with the grief of loss and all that had been taken from her when her mother had passed away. As it was, he knew only the loss of his wife. It was not the same, he knew.
“I did…” Marian began, trailing off as if she didn’t want to say what she had been about to.
“You did what?” he asked.
“I suppose I did find her to be very pretty. I mean, that is hardly important in a governess, but she was certainly more beautiful than the last one. Not half so piggish,” Marian commented, insulting her former governess.
“Miss Firth was hardly piggish,” he laughed, unable to stop himself.
“You know she was, Papa. That nose and her belly? She was the very image of a pig,” Marian said again.
Reginald knew that this was simply another example of why his daughter needed a good lesson in manners. It seemed as though Marian was constantly trying to disturb things and cause problems for others. She found it entertaining to insult those she interacted with, to his eternal dismay.
“We do not compare people to pigs, Marian,” he told her sternly.
“Whatever you wish, Papa,” she replied.
“Now, I should like to tell you a story about our Miss Jamison,” he began, thinking that perhaps Marian needed to hear what her future could possibly hold.
She rolled her eyes as if not wanting to hear it, but conceded to her father’s wishes.
“Once upon a time,” he began, as if he were going to tell her some grand fairytale. Marian immediately took on a dreamy look, excited to hear a story of romance and adventure.
“Once upon a time, Miss Jamison was just like you. She grew up in a grand estate like this one, with a governess of her very own. Oh, she was tutored by the very best of teachers. A brilliant mind and a wonderful life indeed, she had. In fact, she was even wealthier than we are,” he noted, wide eyed.
Marian looked at him with suspicion, not believing a word he had to say about the governess. He sensed the doubt in her mind and was glad for it. Her doubt would make the reality even stronger and more real for her. She would recognise how the mighty could fall.
“You do not believe me?” he questioned.
“Not at all, Papa. If she were as wealthy as we are, why ever would she become a governess?” she asked, giving the last word a nasty sound, as if it tasted bad in her mouth.
“Well, that is a part of the story and I cannot ruin it by telling you the ending before we have got there,” he whispered.
“Then what it is? Tell me,” she urged, desperate to know about the fall of another.
