“Specializing in twins means travelling and wherever I go, I am assumed not to have reached my majority.”

  A memory stirred. Anne recalled her face: Miss Elizabeth Fletcher. Their paths had crossed a few times. Had she not said she specialized in twins? [this makes no sense. Miss Clarke is going to be well aware of her governesses’ skills. It’s rule #2, after all]

  Anne could not precisely recall, but it was the best she could think of.

  As to your own conundrum, Miss Clarke, I have given the matter some thought and would recommend Miss Elizabeth Fletcher for the twins. I believe she has experience in such matters and that is invaluable, especially when they are young.

  “Righty ho, you monster, time for bed,” came Timothy’s voice. “Come on, rascal!”

  “Not before I get a kiss,” said Anne with a smile.

  Frances scampered over to her giggling, and placed a sloppy kiss on Anne’s cheek. It was the most precious thing they shared. This connection between them only grew over time.

  “Good night, Mama,” Frances said, hastening to her father and taking his hand.

  Anne swallowed back the tears threatening to overwhelm. Mama. It was a special name and title she had known she would have to earn, rather than be bestowed––but she had received it so swiftly!

  Three months ago she had no knowledge of who the Clarctons were, and now she was a part of that family.

  The Countess of Clarcton.

  Anne could hardly believe it. Though such swift engagements and marriages were typical amongst Timothy’s kind, she knew, it was a remarkable change of fate.

  “I won’t be long,” said Timothy with a smile.

  It was difficult to manage her emotions at times like this. Most governesses never had their own family; the ties and responsibilities to their charges took up all their time, and there were few men anxious to wed a woman who would never be available for their own children.

  She had resigned herself to a life well lived, but alone. She could never have predicted such a family.

  Even if, in the eyes of her employer, it utterly betrayed everything the Bureau stood for.

  Anne bit her lip. She did not regret the path she had chosen, nor did she believe she had acted wrongly, other than perhaps the charade at the Christmas ball. But that did not change how Miss Clarke would feel upon receiving this letter.

  Please believe me when I say I not acted with the aim of hurting you, and I am very grateful for all the support and encouragement you have given me. I know the Governess Bureau will continue on from strength to strength.

  I know falling in love is against the rules of the Bureau, but I could not help it, Miss Clarke. I love him. And after the Duke and Duchess of Rochdale––well, I am sure you understand.

  Anne looked at the letter. Had she explained sufficiently? If she knew Miss Clarke, there was no sufficient explanation for such an act, but she had done what she could.

  Timothy was worth everything. He was…oh, Anne could not imagine there was another man in the world as wonderful as him. After all the pain he had endured, believing himself to have been the orchestrator of such a terrible fate…

  For all her discretion, she had managed to get what she wanted in the end: true love.

  “Goodness, she is getting heavy,” was Timothy’s greeting as he closed the door behind him, stretching his shoulders. “That girl insisted I carried her all the way upstairs, and she has broken me!”

  “I told you she was old enough for schooling, and you did not believe me.”

  Timothy rolled his eyes as he threw himself onto the sofa. “Nonsense. Well, maybe. I think we need to consider moving her out of the nursery upstairs into something a little more formal. What do you think?”

  Small butterflies were emerging from their cocoons in Anne’s stomach, but she kept her face resolute as she answered.

  “I agree,” she said calmly. “Besides, we may need that chamber for something else.”

  Would he understand her meaning? She had not considered the right time or place to express such hopes, for hopes they were. Or at least, she could not be entirely sure. Not yet.

  Timothy, however, did not seem to understand her at all. “Well, I can’t think what else we would want to use that room for, situated where it is. There are so many rooms in this place. If you want a room for something, there are plenty of others you could use.”

  Anne rose, moving across the room to sit opposite her husband. No, it was not a good enough opening for her news. She was sure she would know when it was, and it was not yet.

  “And what is that smile for, wife?”

  Her stomach swooped to hear that word. “Wife. ’Tis a strange word to answer to.”

  “’Tis even stranger for someone to respond,” said Timothy cheerfully, but then his face fell. “You…you do not find it difficult, knowing for a time I was married to your cousin. You said you were close.”

  “A long time ago,” said Anne. She had considered the situation carefully and though it was a strange situation, it was not unheard of. “Perhaps if Louise and I had remained close. Perhaps if we had been as sisters to each other as women.”

  “I suppose you are right,” Timothy said heavily. “As long as you are not unhappy.”

  Anne raised an eyebrow. “With you?”

  A cushion was thrown at her for that remark, and she caught it with a chuckle.

  “How very dare you, and you my wife and all,” said Timothy in a mock haughty tone, though he did not hide his smile. “In hindsight, having found happiness myself…I know what it is now, and I know what I lacked, but somehow I wonder whether she lacked it too.”

  Anne was silent. Timothy would heal over time.

  “I suppose it hurts,” she said gingerly after a few minutes. “You were injured by her.”

  “I look back now and wonder whether I was too hard on her,” Timothy said. “It is not as though I made it easy. She must have been lonely, here in this place, far above her birth and losing my trust. She must have been lonely, finding affection in a servant’s arms.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. You did!”

  Timothy shook his head wryly. “So I did! That was because the right woman arrived. You are perfect for me, Anne. You, and Frances… Now nothing will change for a time. I don’t think I could cope with much else changing, I need a bit of normality before anything else happens!”

  He spread out his arms behind him and rested his head on his palms, stifling a yawn.

  Anne hesitated. “You might find something changing would be a good thing.”

  “Christ, I cannot possible think what,” Timothy groaned, eyes closed. “I am exhausted from all this subterfuge, which I should never have started in the first place!”

  It was hard to disagree with this. “The moment you asked me to pretend to be your countess at the Christmas ball, you set off a chain of events which was rather unpredictable.”

  Her husband chuckled. “I know, God’s teeth, I could never have foreseen it all. But there we are. All’s well that ends well, as they say.”

  Anne took a deep breath. If she had thought about it, she would have prepared herself better, but now was the right time to speak. Really, she should be commended for keeping this to herself for weeks. A governess of discretion? She had more than earned that title.

  “Well…I wouldn’t call this the end. Not really.”

  Timothy opened one eye from his reclined position. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean…well,” she said slowly. “I am not even one hundred percent certain. It could all be a lot of fuss for nothing, and then I would feel ridiculous calling out the doctor, and––”

  Both Timothy’s eyes snapped open and he sat up straight, all mirth gone from his face. “Doctor? Anne, are you ill? Why didn’t you tell me something was amiss?”

  Anne smiled. It was a strange sort of secret, this one. It filled her very soul with warmth and yet the pleasure of keeping it was secondary only to sharing it.

  “No, I am not ill,” she said softly, “but I am certainly not feeling my best.”

  Timothy was a picture of concern. “Damn and blast it, Anne, why didn’t you say so? Here I’ve been, blathering on, and you’ve felt––are you too hot? Too cold? Shall I call for Dewey, have the doctor called?”

  “I think the doctor would be a good idea,” said Anne firmly, “but let’s wait until tomorrow.”

  Her heart twisted to see the concern on Timothy’s face. He loved her. He really did, passionately and foolishly, in his own way.

  “I do not understand why we would bother waiting when you are unwell,” said Timothy urgently. “Unless––unless you know what is wrong?”

  Anne took a deep breath. “I do not know, but I suspect that…Timothy, I think I am pregnant. With child.”

  As she watched him, she wondered whether she should have prepared him. Timothy had not moved––not an inch. He was still leaning forward on the sofa, still had his eyes wide, and stared at her without speaking.

  Anne swallowed. “I mean, I––”

  “With child! Oh, Anne, are you sure?”

  She was unable to reply immediately, breath entirely knocked from her lungs as Timothy swept her up into his arms. Kisses rained down on her face and he captured her lips in a passionate yet reverential kiss.

  When he finally broke the kiss, Anne looked into a beaming smile.

  “Oh, Anne! You are sure?”

  “Not entirely,” she breathed with a nervous laugh, “but all the signs are there, and I suppose there is always a possibility that the precaution we took––”

  “Oh, we shouldn’t have even bothered with that,” said Timothy, his laughter rocking through Anne’s body, it was drawn so close to his own. “A baby! A child, a brother or sister for Frances! Oh, Anne!”

  As he kissed her again, it was not just pleasure that rippled through Anne; it was relief, excitement, and something else she could not quite identify.

  Their family was going to grow larger, more love, more excitement, more drama. And at the center of it all, her and Timothy.

  “Oh Anne, you have made me so happy,” said Timothy with shining eyes. “But blast it all, you will have to keep this under your hat! While the world is a little confused about when we married, it certainly isn’t long enough for that!

  Anne laughed. “Do not worry yourself about that. I am a governess of discretion.” [this would be a much better ending and have more punch if chap 25 didn’t end with the same phrase]

 

 

  Emily E K Murdoch, A Governess of Discretion (The Governess Bureau Book 2)

 

 

  Thank you for reading books on GrayCity.Net
Share this book with friends