Page 40 of The Earl's Disguised Governess
“Miss Gundry,” Ernest said pleadingly. “We must make haste.”
“Of course,” she whispered, her panic making her ramble. The two of them hurried from the study. Miss Gundry lifted her nightgown skirts that were just visible beneath a heavy winter’s cloak.
“You must tell me what you know,” he demanded as they made for a back exit from the house, thinking of heading to the stables. But he quickly decided against that. Lady Florence was not a fan of horses, and he could not envision her going far enough to need to use one, especially unattended, at night, in the snow. He could only hope she had not gone far on foot. “For I assume this might have something to do with why I have noticed tension between you two.”
The candlelight’s flame shook in her hands as she nodded. “I … I do not wish to alert the staff because I suspect Lady Florence has snuck out to meet a young man.”
That sentence alone was almost enough for Ernest to stop in his tracks. But he pushed on and quietly processed what that could mean.
“Please do not tell me she has ruined herself,” he said to Miss Gundry. It was the last thing he needed to deal with: a scandal for a ruined ward. The Ton would never accept her, would shun her, as they had done him and his mother. The difference would be that Lady Florence’s prospects would dwindle, and it would be up to Ernest to rectify everything. He thought of Lady Samantha and her risk of being wed to an older gentleman. He could not bear the thought of it happening to his cousin, too, when all her other options had dried up.
“I do not think so,” Miss Gundry told him as they broke through the door and entered the snowy blanket outside that covered the field. “I believe she thinks herself in love, a romantic sort, and not thinking of … anything else.” He saw her visibly cringe at the implication, and he, too, swallowed, nodding sharply. However, if word got out, the people of the Ton would easily think of anything they pleased, whether it was true or not.
“Lord Bannerdown, I found letters in Lady Florence’s room during Lady Samantha’s stay. They were exchanged between herself and a gentleman whom she met last year in the assembly rooms in Bath. Ever since, she has been upset with me. I have tried to console her, advise her, but also to warn her of how young men can be.” She paused. “I believe this act of rebellion might be her proving to me that I am wrong. Or that she thinks I am wrong. The letters showed her correspondence with a certain young man, and she expressed her love for him. She … She thinks of them as Romeo and Juliet, which is why I believe she has snuck out, just as they both did, defying orders and society’s rules.”
Ernest drew back, pausing in the bitter cold night. It was dark outside, and he could only hope Miss Gundry’s candlelight persisted against the wintery chill. He was glad to see her at least wrapped up in a cloak. But upset pierced through him.
“I am … surprised, Miss Gundry, that you did not come right to me with this knowledge. I have confided in you a lot regarding my own concerns for both Lady Florence and other things. If you had concerns about her well-being or actions, I should have been alerted.”
“Lord Bannerdown, I was merely trying to protect the young, grieving girl I am to guide. I wished to counsel her while keeping her confidence. While I disapprove as much as you, I could not run right to you with this knowledge.”
“And why not?” he demanded.
Something flickered over her face, something she held back, and he wished to press her, but he watched as she closed up again. It was something she did often, as though she came close to one answer but chose a different one at the last moment possible.
“I—she is grieving, and you are a man. It did not seem right, as part of my counsel was to warn her about men. I did not wish to offend.” The words seemed heavy from her mouth, as though it was not as honest as she thought it was.
Ernest hesitated. But he could not answer more, for he saw footprints in the snow and pointed them out.
“Look—there,” he told her. “We should follow her tracks.”
“Part of me wishes to see Lady Florence home safe, but another part despises that I am taking such a moment from her, even if we are correct in doing so.”
“This is my cousin’s reputation, Miss Gundry!” Ernest chided, raising his voice, hard with exhaustion, worry, and upset at being lied to. Or perhaps it wasn’t lied to, but Miss Gundry had kept pivotal knowledge from him about his own ward. He felt suddenly blindsided.
“I believe in my decision, Lord Bannerdown,” Miss Gundry admitted, her voice firm. “I can only apologize that I let it come between us.”
“You have kept your distance lately,” he murmured. And then he snapped back into action, alarmed to let himself be so distracted. “Come, we must follow this trail. We shall find my cousin before she does something utterly insane.”
He paused, meeting Miss Gundry’s gaze by the candlelight. “I do hope you counselled her well, Miss Gundry. I do hope you warned her against what will happen to her prospects if she thinks to sully herself.”
The governess swallowed and nodded. “I hope I did enough.”
Despite his anger at her secrecy, Ernest could not help himself looking out for Claire as they traversed through the snow, tracking the small footprints that showed, at least, Florence was not on horseback. It meant they had a better chance of finding her. He kept glancing between the tracks and Claire. The darkness pressed around them. An owl hooted in the distance, and the snap of twigs in the night put him on edge, wanting to protect her.
Claire was absolute in her silence, even if she did keep stumbling in the snow, and immediately reached out for him as if not aware she was doing it. The snow came down harder, and although Ernest could barely see a foot ahead of him, what he could see worried him.
The tracks they followed were starting to be covered by more snow.
“Where shall we go now?” Claire asked, her voice tight with exasperation. “We’re losing the tracks!”
Under his breath, Ernest grumbled, “Perhaps if you had not wasted so much time starting an argument, then we would have been faster. Or perhaps if you had come to me sooner with your concerns, Florence would have never run in the first place.”
“Perhaps if you had not been so busy with Lady Samantha, you would have noticed her emotional distress,” Claire snapped. Ernest stopped. Her eyes were wide as if she feared her outburst, but her mouth was tight, clinging to that stubborn nature he had come to like.
“We shall go right,” he sighed. “She enjoys a particular part of the grounds that leads out by a canal. If we’re lucky, she may not have gone that far.” They trudged onwards, searching for the sign of more tracks or Florence herself. A noise, a sniffle from the cold, the swish of a cloak. Just anything to know Florence was nearby.
“Miss Gundry, you are her governess,” he said tightly. “It is your job to guide her, to tutor her, to alert her guardian of anything amiss. You failed in that duty. You have grown lax, and I beg to ask what has caused this.”
