The little girls, both talking at once, ran to their father, hugging one side of him each, and smiling up her with a beguiling mixture of shyness and mischief.
“These are my daughters, Sarah and Sophia,” Mr. Carluke said proudly. “Girls, your new governess, Miss Milsom.” As he spoke, he began walking toward the front steps with the children dangling from him. It seemed not to discommode him, for he still carried Helen’s bag.
The lady with the baby in her arms smiled at Helen.
“My wife,” her husband said with equal pride. “Miss Milsom, my dear.” Quite without embarrassment, he dropped a kiss on his wife’s lips, and then they were inside the house with the door closed.
From the depths of the house, a furious female voice could be heard scolding and ordering someone out.
“Go and rescue Nurse,” Mrs. Carluke told the children. “and then come down for tea. You had probably better bring Bounder with you. Come into the drawing room, Miss Milsom, and sit by the fire. You must be frozen!”
A maid appeared to take her cloak, and before long, she found herself in a pleasant room by a warm fire, a cup of hot tea in her hand. She felt far too comfortable and was compelled to remind herself that she was here as the governess, not a guest.
“Are your daughters twins?” she asked Mrs. Carluke.
“No, Sarah will be five next month. Sophia is only twelve months younger and very slightly taller! And little Selena here is a mere five weeks old.” She met Helen’s gaze. “You should know I don’t want their governess to keep their noses to the grindstone. I think you’d all be insane in a month. But…they are too lively for Nurse, and for me right now with Selina. Perhaps they could just do a little reading, writing, and drawing? A few outings and walks? Are you happy to play as well as teach?”
“Of course,” Helen said. “Whatever you would like me to do.”
Mrs. Carluke’s face relaxed. “That is what I was told. I hope you don’t find us too chaotic. It’s true the girls could do with a little discipline in their lives, but they are mostly biddable and very good-natured.”
“I have no wish to talk myself out of the position,” Helen said frankly. “But would it not be less expensive for you to employ a younger nursemaid to assist the nurse you already have?”
“It crossed our minds,” Mrs. Carluke admitted, “but then we heard about you, and since my husband is very keen on learning…” She shrugged. “This seemed the ideal choice.”
“I shall do my best to live up to your expectations,” Helen murmured, wondering exactly what had reached the Carlukes from Henrietta and her sister, the Duchess of Alvan.
*
The rest of the evening was spent with the children, first in the company of their parents—and Bounder, who settled contentedly before the fire. Later, the children took her to see the schoolroom and their bedchamber. They asked her more questions than she asked them, and by their bedtime, she knew that in this post, she had landed on her feet.
During the bedtime ritual, she was introduced to Nurse, who seemed to regard her with deep suspicion. Helen was friendly and deliberately held herself back from interfering with Nurse’s duties, merely said goodnight to the girls and left the bedchamber first. She supposed Nurse would come around in time, but the peculiar detachment that had hung around her since leaving Audley Park prevented her from caring too much. She would perform her duties to the best of her ability and contrive to keep her charges happy. Nothing else in the house would really touch her.
On the other hand, she did find a certain enjoyment in dining with Mr. and Mrs. Carluke. If their quiet banter and contented intimacy made her heart ache for what she had lost—what she had refused—then the entertainment of their company more than made up for it. They were undoubtedly an eccentric couple, particularly the absent-minded scholar whose conversation often went off on tangents or stopped abruptly altogether as some other idea took possession of his thoughts. Mrs. Carluke took it all in stride.
Helen’s bedchamber was situated between the schoolroom and the landing. It was large enough to be comfortable and small enough to be cozy. As she arranged her meager possessions in the drawers, she told herself this was the ideal position to make a new life, to recover her equilibrium, and stop regretting what could never have been.
All the same, as she blew out the candle and lay down in bed, familiar sadness swept around her with the darkness. She missed Marcus. His loss was like a physical pain, making it very hard to look forward to the next day with any eagerness. She forced her thoughts to her new charges, to plans for lessons and play.
But asleep, she could not control her dreams. After weeks apart from him, she had grown used to waking in the night to find her face wet with tears.
In the morning, she discovered that the family ate breakfast together. Mr. Carluke, unlike the majority of men, did not appear to mind the babble of children so early in the day and seemed quite happy to entertain them. His newspaper lay folded and untouched by his elbow. Mrs. Carluke joined in the chatter, though she seemed wearier than her husband.
When he had drunk a second cup of coffee, he picked up his newspaper and rose, wandering off to his study with the wave of his hand.
This, Helen suspected, was now the hard part of the day for his wife, who could neither catch up on sleep nor summon the energy to play with the girls as their vitality demanded.
“I thought,” Helen said, “if you are agreeable, ma’am, that the girls could show me the village this morning? We could buy anything there that you need, and then we could have our first lesson with a cup of hot chocolate?”
Mrs. Carluke smiled gratefully, and the girls cheered, so Helen swept them off to find boots and warm cloaks.
The day worked out much as Helen planned, with short bursts of classroom lessons mixed up with less structured activities, like counting early snowdrops during their afternoon walk in the woods outside the village.
They returned home as dusk began to fall, and that was when Helen’s careful plans slipped.
They had taken Bounder with them, and he jumped back indoors with his usual enthusiasm only to stop and gaze toward the staircase, a low growl in his throat. A small ball of fur hurtled down the stairs, jumped at Bounder’s nose, ran rings around the girls, then threw itself at Helen, who caught it in her arms from sheer instinct.
“Spring?” she said in disbelief. The Duchess of Alvan’s pet terrier, whom she had met during the couple’s stay at Audley Park last year, was a unique animal. She really doubted there could be another like him.
Spring licked her face enthusiastically, then struggled and sprang free to encourage Bounder to play. Bounder tolerated him, even wagged his tail.
“There he is,” said a familiar voice from the drawing-room door. “He’s been looking all over for Bounder, I think.” The Duchess of Alvan smiled at the children. “How do you do, little Carlukes?”
The girls ran to her, and the duchess, never high in the instep, even now when she was with child, knelt down to hug them before her gaze lifted to Helen’s.
Although the duchess had been instrumental in finding this position for her, Helen had no real idea how she regarded her. She could not help tensing.
But the duchess rose and offered her hand. “Miss Milsom, what a pleasure to see you here.”