Page 2 of Her Duke to Beguile: Lady Be Wicked
Finally she reached the servants’ entrance and rapped on the door harder than she normally would. A light drizzle had started to fall, but that wouldn’t last for long. It felt good on her heated skin, though, so she welcomed that mist. The heavy door opened and an older woman stood in the entrance. She had dark hair pulled back in a severe bun and it was peppered with streaks of gray throughout. Her eyes were almost as gray as those strands, too. Her cheeks were ruddy and her body was round and plump. “Who might ye be,” she asked in a heavy Scottish brogue. A sure testament at how close they were to the border.
“My name is Miss Eleanor Jones. I’m expected.” The woman stared at her for several moments as if she were an undesirable bug she debated squishing beneath her boot. “For the governess position,” she stammered out nervously.
“Aye,” she said in a firm tone. “I ken who you be. Had to gauge yer grit I did. Come inside before the storm blows ye away.”
Eleanor didn’t hesitate to enter the castle at the invitation. She didn’t want to be in the storm. Especially as the clouds seemed to have darkened even further in the seconds, she stood outside the servants’ entrance. “Are you the housekeeper?”
“Nay,” she said. “Mrs. Hopson is in with the countess. I’m tae bring ye tae them posthaste.”
So she had no intention of introducing herself? Eleanor would find it rude, but she didn’t much care what this woman thought of her. She had no say in her employment. There were only two individuals that she had to concern herself with in this interview: the countess and the housekeeper. She would put in more effort once this woman led her to them.
She walked down a long hallway. They passed several maids busy with their daily tasks. A blonde maid folded towels and another polished silverware. Neither of them glanced at her as she kept moving forward behind the stern woman in front of her. Clearly the housekeeper ran a strict household or they would be gossiping at the very least. None of them said one word. It was almost disturbing.
Finally, they reached a pair of doors that swung inward as she pushed them open. Inside was a luxurious sitting room. A set of small mahogany tables flanked two blue velvet settees, and a matching chair sat between settees. A woman with dark hair pulled back into an elegant chignon sat serenely on one of the settees. She held a delicate teacup on one hand as she sipped on the hot liquid. The other woman had dark auburn hair that was pulled back as severely as the woman that escorted Eleanor inside the castle. Her eyes were a rich brown that held little humor in them.
“Pardon the interruption, milady,” the woman said from the entrance. “The applicant for the governess position is here tae discuss it with ye.”
The countess glanced at her and smiled. “Please come in.” She motioned toward the rude lady and said, “That will be all, Ruth. Please return to the kitchen and have a maid bring more biscuits. I’m afraid Mrs. Hopson and I finished them all.”
“I’ll send a maid straightaway, milady,” Ruth told her. At least now Eleanor had a name for the discourteous woman. She rushed to do the countess’s bidding and Eleanor breathed a sigh of relief.”
“Would you like some tea?” the countess asked her. “Please have a seat.” She gestured toward the other settee. “Mrs. Hopson and I were finished discussing the household accounts. I see to them with her for my brother, the duke, since he refuses to marry.”
That seemed oddly personal… Perhaps the countess liked to gossip? “Tea would be lovely,” she told her. She wouldn’t comment on the duke’s lack of a wife. That wouldn’t be the best way to impress the countess of the housekeeper. Especially if the housekeeper was as strict as she appeared.
The countess poured tea into a cup and handed it to her. She didn’t ask her how she took her tea and Eleanor didn’t offer the information, either. She’d like sugar, but as that was a luxury she couldn’t afford herself, she’d taken to drinking it plain, anyway. She accepted the cup from her and took a sip. “Thank you, my lady.”
Mrs. Hopson glanced at her finally. “You don’t have any actual experience as a governess. Yet you come highly recommended. Your references are impeccable.” She set down her account book. “Why do you wish to be a governess, Miss. Jones?”
She didn’t actually want to be a governess. Eleanor had no choice in the matter. Her father had been a vicar, and one that didn’t have the sense to save any funds to bequeath his daughter if he should leave her alone in the world. “I enjoy teaching,” she admitted. “I may not have experience as a governess, but I assisted my father with his students. He had a few boys he taught math, Latin, and history too, three times a week. I have benefitted from the same education since I was a young girl.”
“Your father was a vicar?” the countess asked.
“He was,” Eleanor answered. “He resided in the same parish for over a decade. It was a good income, but he taught to help supplement our needs. Viscount Ranford didn’t mind as long as it didn’t interfere with my father’s primary duties.”
“And did it?” Mrs. Hopson asked.
“Interfere?” Eleanor asked. “Not at all. I stepped in with the lessons if my father were to be called away. It’s why he ensured I had an excellent education.” Truthfully, she’d taught most of those lessons the past few years. Her father had taken ill and could barely complete his vicar duties.
“You don’t mind having the one student?” the countess asked. “My son can be…difficult. We have had several governesses quit after a week. We’re hoping that you’ll have the resilience to handle his disruptive behavior without fleeing.”
Was that why Ruth had tried to ascertain her fortitude earlier? “I do not anticipate having any difficulties. He wouldn’t be the first boy to test his teacher. I’m certain we will find our way after he realized I won’t disappear like all the others.”
“Are you afraid of slimy creatures?” Mrs. Hopson asked. “Like frogs.”
“No, I am not.” Her lips twitched. If the housekeeper knew she’d run wild as a young girl, she wouldn’t have to ask that question. “They won’t frighten me away.”
“Good,” the countess said. “Then we shall hire you on a temporary basis. If you withstand the week, we will discuss a permanent position. Let’s bring down my son for you to meet.”
“I’ll retrieve him, my lady,” the housekeeper said.
They sat in silence for several moments. Eleanor didn’t know how to converse with a proper lady. She’d been around men and boys her entire life. For that reason, she could handle any pranks the young earl sent her way. But this… polite conversation. That was foreign to her. It did not matter that she was fluent in several languages. None of that would aid her now.
Thankfully, she didn’t have long to wait. The housekeeper led a small boy no older than seven into the sitting room. He had hair the same shade as his mother’s, but his eyes were an ice blue. He must have gotten those striking eyes from his late father.
“This is Elliot Allen, the ninth Earl of Craven,” the housekeeper told Eleanor. “Until he gives you leave to use his given name, you will address him as Lord Craven. Is that understood?”
They were going to allow a child to decide if she had to use his title or his given name? She almost shrugged, but somehow refrained. “I understand.” There was no other answer to give any of them; however, did they realize they were setting off at a disadvantage? The child may be an earl, but how was she going to teach him when he held all the cards? Somehow, she’d manage it. She had to. This was her last chance at employment. “Hello, Lord Craven. I’m Miss Jones. We’re going to learn a lot together.”
