A Governess to Heal the Widowed Earl (Preview)

Chapter One

Nathaniel Fairfax, Earl of Thornleigh, held his breath as he looked across the table at his nine-year-old daughter, Charlotte.

His tall frame seemed to shrink as he sat, and the faint shadows beneath his eyes betrayed his sleepless nights. He slowly clenched his jaw as he watched her raise her cup and deliberately spill the tea on the table.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Father,” she said, a sly smile spreading across her face.

He knew that she did not feel any remorse, but he did not know what to say to her. He stared into her eyes, their steel-blue color still reflecting his own.

He saw a look of defiance, but he also saw a flicker of pain, evidence of the grief that she carried.

Despite the pain that he knew she must be feeling, he could not let this go. This was the fourth meal in a row she had disrupted, and she had to be reprimanded.

“Charlotte,” he said, his voice stern. “That is not acceptable. You cannot willfully spill your tea on the table.”

Charlotte looked up at him, her eyes cold and challenging. “I did not willfully spill my tea. It was simply an accident. You cannot punish me for an accident.”

Nathaniel sat in silence, unable to believe his daughter’s behavior. Finally, he found his voice.

“Do not add deceit to what you have done. I watched you pour the tea out of your cup, which is entirely unacceptable. You must behave with honor and decorum at all times. I will not tolerate such defiance.”

Charlotte pushed herself away from the table, stood up, and ran out of the room, her footsteps echoing in the cold, empty halls.

Nathaniel sighed as he put his head down and ran his hands through his dark hair, his broad shoulders slumped in defeat. He pressed his palms against his temples in a vain attempt to relieve the weight bearing down on him.

I do not know what to do, he thought. I do not know how to reach her.
He looked across the table to where Charlotte had been sitting, willing away the tears trying to form in his eyes.

I know that she is hurting. Her mother has only been gone two years, and I know that there is nothing that I can do to change that.

Nathaniel pushed away the guilt he always felt whenever he thought about losing his beloved Ophelia.
However, I also know that I cannot sit by and let her turn into a tyrant. This is not what Ophelia would have wanted for her daughter.

He listened as the familiar sound of Charlotte’s screaming reached his ears. He knew she had stomped to her room and thrown herself across her bed. He could picture her lying there, crying, and being as disruptive as she possibly could. It was an almost daily occurrence. His daughter’s screaming was the most familiar sound in the nearly silent home, and he did not know how to stop it.

Nathaniel leaned back in his chair and looked around the room, trying to find something to calm him. As he surveyed every inch of the room, he felt a small sense of comfort that everything was neatly in its place. He was proud of Thornleigh Hall.

He looked out the window and could not help but smile a bit, despite the tension he felt. He had put so much time and thought into the garden and the grounds. It was a beautiful sight, and there had been those fleeting years when he felt nothing but comfort and peace everywhere he turned.

But then it all changed.

Now, no matter where he went or what he did, he could not find peace. The walls seemed to be closing in on him, and the very air he breathed seemed full of heartbreaking memories. And worse still, it was evident that Charlotte was almost beyond help.

Nathaniel turned his attention back to the breakfast room. Everything in his home was in order, and everyone who worked for him was also in order. No one, other than his daughter, ever dared to step out of line.

The discipline and orderliness within his house made him feel as if he had some sort of control. He once again felt the familiar stab of grief as he thought of the tragedy he was not able to control, but he quickly pushed that thought from his mind.
The sound of his footman entering the room quickly silenced his thoughts and turned his attention toward the door.

“Hello, John,” Nathaniel said, giving a slight nod of approval at John’s orderly appearance. “Do you have news for me?”

“Yes, my Lord,” John said, his voice respectful and refined. “I have come to inform you that the new governess has been hired, and she will be joining us later this morning.”

“Very good, thank you,” Nathaniel said. “Please see to it that Ms. Pritchard has everything in order.”

“Yes, my Lord,” John replied, hurrying out of the room to fulfill his duty.

Nathaniel stood up and began to pace. This is the fourth governess this year, he thought.
He shook his head as he thought about the three young women who had been driven away by Charlotte’s behavior. All of them had seemed so earnest, yet so naïve, believing that they would be able to make a difference. One way or another, Charlotte managed to drive all of them away.

Nathaniel closed his eyes as he pictured all three of the women meekly telling him they were taking leave of their positions. They had all been polite and deferential, but it was visibly evident that all of them had been pushed to their breaking point.

He paused for a moment, feeling a twinge of guilt. He knew that he had also not made it easy for them. He knew that they considered him to be cold and distant, and they were not wrong. He was aware that part of their feelings stemmed from their respective positions, but he also felt as if, over the past two years, he had forgotten how to be kind. He was not blind to the frustration the governesses had experienced, but he had consistently felt too numb to be able to do anything about it.

They had all been young and intimidated, and he was certain that a kind word from him would have made the situation a bit more bearable for them, but he could not bring himself to bestow such kindness. It was as if, since the death of his dear Ophelia, he had been stuck in a haze, unable to smile or to feel anything other than anger.

Nathaniel listened as he heard Ms. Pritchard giving instructions to Maggie and the other staff. He felt the bustle of activity and could sense a general feeling of anticipation in the air. He watched as the servants moved about, but he sighed, shook his head, and softly muttered, “What’s the use? She will break, as they all do.”

Chapter Two

Beatrice looked at her younger sister, blinking away the tears from her eyes as her throat began to tighten. Her slender frame seemed almost fragile in the dim light, though her posture was upright. She did not want to leave Lizzie. Her most recent illness had left her looking even older than her fourteen years, and she seemed so frail. Beatrice wanted nothing more than to stay by her side and nurse her back to full health, but she knew that if they were to survive another year, she had to go out to earn some money.

“Lizzie,” Beatrice said softly, “I am so sorry to have to do this. The last thing I want to do is to leave you, but this job at Thornleigh will be perfect.”

“I know it will be perfect,” Lizzie said, smiling bravely. “And although I will miss you, I do not feel sad. I feel thankful you are taking care of me in the most practical way, as you always have.”

Beatrice smiled gently. She knew that, as eight years her junior, Lizzie viewed Beatrice as almost more of a mother figure than a sister. Their parents had been gone for almost four years, and Beatrice was doing everything she could to support their tiny family.

I just hope that I am able to keep this position, Beatrice thought. Lizzie is sick so frequently, and I need to help care for her, and this income will help me do that.

Beatrice knew that she had a tendency to speak her mind a little too often. She had lost her two most recent positions because of this fact, and she was afraid that she would not be able to hold her tongue.

She knew the reputation of the Earl of Thornleigh, and she worried that it would be next to impossible to stay in good standing with such a stern and demanding person.

Lizzie wrapped her arms around Beatrice, her gentle smile bringing peace and comfort.

“I know you will be a wonderful governess,” Lizzie said. “You have taught me so well. And even though the Earl of Thornleigh is said to be very stern, I know you will help the child and will not have any trouble minding your tongue.”

Beatrice marveled at the fact that although Lizzie was so young, she was wise beyond her years. She smiled as she thought back to the many times Lizzie had been the voice of reason, gently offering comforting advice despite being so young.

“Thank you, my dear Lizzie,” Beatrice said, hugging her sister close. “I know that this will make a better life for both of us.”

The sound of the approaching coach brought an abrupt end to their conversation. After a bustle of activity, Beatrice hugged her sister one last time, took a deep breath, held her head high, and set out, knowing that she had to succeed.

As she rode along, Beatrice gazed out the window, marveling at the beauty of the countryside. Eight hours passed as rolling green fields and quaint villages slipped by. When she finally arrived, she stood in front of the exquisite Thornleigh Hall and suddenly felt small. Her modest figure, clad in a simple traveling dress, seemed almost swallowed by the towering stone walls and ornate windows.

Although she was quite familiar with other large homes and had worked for some truly respectable families, she had never seen anything quite like this. It was certainly beautiful, but it seemed dreary, and almost foreboding, as if it held the weight of the entire family.

Still, she held her head high, refusing to let the grandeur of the home diminish her resolve. She shook her head and realized that it did not matter how big the house was or how gloomy it might seem; she had a job to do. As she walked up the path toward the home, she observed a thin woman standing in the doorway. The woman was watching Beatrice closely with a stern, almost sour, look on her face. Beatrice felt a bit uncomfortable but assumed the woman was the housekeeper.

“Hello, you are Miss Whitby, I presume?” the housekeeper said, once Beatrice was standing in front of her. Her voice was cold and distant, and there was no trace of welcome in her eyes.

“Yes,” Beatrice answered, surprised by the borderline inhospitality of the housekeeper. “I am Beatrice Whitby, and I have been hired as the governess.”

“You may come in,” the woman said, slowly moving to the side. “I am Ms. Pritchard, and I have the honor of being the housekeeper of Thornleigh Hall.”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” Beatrice said, determined to be polite.
Ms. Pritchard did not answer.

“Settle yourself for a moment, and then I will show you around the house before you speak with his lordship.”

Beatrice nodded but did not say more. She could hear the disdain in Ms. Pritchard’s voice, but would not be deterred.

I will not shrink under the gaze of a self-important housekeeper who thinks she is better than everyone, Beatrice thought, finding comfort in the fact that she knew her gentle smile hid what she was really thinking. I have met her type before.

A few moments later, Beatrice followed Ms. Pritchard through a tour of the house. She could sense the housekeeper was proud of the estate, and sensed that the woman had been acquainted with the family for many years. Beatrice would not be impertinent, but she was determined to find out more about who she was and why she was so surly. As they entered the parlor, Beatrice was introduced to a young, nervous maid.

“Miss Whitby, this is Maggie,” Miss Pritchard said, coldly. “She helps with the household chores.”

“Hello, Maggie,” Beatrice said, returning the young woman’s friendly smile.

“This is a beautiful home.” Maggie nodded her head in agreement.

“It is an honor to work here,” she said, glancing nervously at Ms. Pritchard.

“I am happy to hear that,” Beatrice answered, wondering why Maggie was so on edge, but determined that, given her relatively young appearance, she was very likely new to the position and was afraid to make a mistake.

Maggie stared at Beatrice for a few moments, as if trying to decide if she should say more. Finally, she leaned in closer and said, in a low voice, “It is a fine establishment, but it certainly is not a place for the faint-hearted.”

“What does that mean?” Beatrice asked, startled at the sudden bluntness and boldness of the maid. She expected Miss Pritchard to reprimand the servant, but, to her surprise, she simply cleared her throat and allowed Maggie to continue talking.

“While the home may be beautiful, it is certainly not peaceful.” Maggie looked around and lowered her voice before continuing.

“Whyever not?” Beatrice asked. “What is causing the disruption?”

“Miss Charlotte is a little monster.”

Beatrice gasped. “A monster? I have never heard a child described as a monster before!”

Maggie glanced at Miss Pritchard but, seeing no censure, continued talking. “I know it may seem to be extreme, but there is truly no other way to describe her behavior. She is wild, unruly, and terribly unpleasant. No governess has ever been strong enough to put up with her before.”

“Well,” Beatrice said, pausing for a moment to gather her thoughts. “That is a bit alarming to hear. However, I am used to raising children. I have worked with other families in the past, and I have raised my younger sister for the last four years. I am well aware of the challenges children can bring.”

Maggie smiled. “I am happy to see that you are confident, and I hope that you will be different from the others. But I can confidently state that you have not encountered a child like Miss Charlotte.”

Ms. Pritchard cleared her throat again. “Maggie, I believe you have had enough to say on the matter, and you have tasks to attend to.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Maggie said. She turned her attention to Beatrice one last time.

“Good luck,” she whispered as she quickly left the room.

Beatrice turned toward Ms. Pritchard and was surprised to see the older woman glaring at her.
“Maggie was correct,” Ms. Pritchard said, judgment dripping from her voice. “You seem very confident about working with a child whom you have never met.”

“Yes, I am confident,” Beatrice replied. I am also very nervous, and after hearing what I just heard, and your highly unpleasant demeanor, I am wondering if I have made a mistake, she thought to herself.

Beatrice held her head high and continued speaking, “I am confident, and I am determined. I will not be afraid of a child.”

“I should imagine that you would not be afraid of a child, Miss Whitby. After all, you are a governess. However, you also must remember that there is not just a child here. The child has a very formidable father,” Ms. Pritchard said, her insincere smile adding weight to her words.

Beatrice would not be intimidated. “Yes, I am aware that her father lives here,” she said boldly. “Although I do not live in the immediate area, I have heard much about his lordship.”

“Then you must be aware that he is also not pleasant to work for.”

“What do you mean?” Beatrice asked. She had heard that his lordship demanded a disciplined and orderly home, but she had never heard that he was not a good man to work for.

“You will see for yourself,” Ms. Pritchard said, smiling smugly.

Beatrice did not know how to respond, and was thankful the housekeeper did not leave time for an answer.
“I will go and inform my lord that you have arrived,” Ms. Pritchard said, formally.

Beatrice was impressed by how quickly Ms. Pritchard changed her tone, as if she had not, just mere seconds ago, been saying that her lord was not a good man to work for.

“You may wait here until you are summoned.” With one final glare, Ms. Pritchard turned and left the room.

“What on earth could that have been about?” Beatrice muttered to herself. She did not believe that things could be nearly as bad as Ms. Pritchard had been insinuating. She herself had been working there for years, and Maggie had not mentioned anything negative about the Earl of Thornleigh.

It feels as if Ms. Pritchard is trying to deceive me, she thought. Or maybe even scare me away! But why would she want to do that?

Beatrice shook her head as she thought of the word “monster.” Clearly, the child needed a governess, and something needed to be done to help bring peace to the home. Beatrice would have thought Ms. Pritchard would have done everything in her power to make it seem as if everything was wonderful at Thornleigh.

She knew that there had to be more to Ms. Pritchard’s behavior, and she vowed that she would get to the bottom of it once everything was settled.

Chapter Three

Nathaniel sat at the desk in his office, drumming his fingers on the table as he waited for the new governess to be brought to him. Although only thirty years of age, at times his solemnity made him seem far older, his face marked by grief and resolve.

He had detected disapproval in Ms. Pritchard’s voice as she announced the arrival of the young woman, but he needed to speak with Miss Whitby for himself. He sighed as he realized that he was mostly going to be trying to determine just how long it would take before he would again be searching for a new governess.

He heard her steps in the hallway, surprised by how quickly she was walking.
This is interesting, he thought. She seems to be eager to meet with me. Most people are slow to approach me. I wonder what this means. He heard a quick knock on the door and then watched as John quickly entered the room, followed by a young woman.

“Miss Whitby, my lord,” John said, nodding his head deferentially before quickly leaving the room.

Beatrice curtsied, and Nathaniel stayed seated, taking a moment to observe her. Although her gown was neat and appropriate, and her chestnut hair was pulled back away from her face, some unruly pieces of hair seemed to have escaped their pins, giving her a slightly disheveled appearance.

She will need to be more presentable, he thought, a slight frown crossing his face.

“You are Miss Whitby,” he said.

Beatrice stood up, “Yes, my lord.”

She briefly raised her eyes to meet his, and he was struck by the boldness he saw reflected within their hazel color.
“And you wish to be the governess to my daughter, Charlotte?”

“Yes, my lord.”

Nathaniel nodded. He had expected her to shrink back from him some, as most people did, but she did not. She stood before him straight and confident, which he found oddly unsettling.

“I am told you have held similar positions before, Miss Whitby.”

“I was with the daughters of Sir William Egerton for one year, and with the daughter of Sir Thomas Ashford for one year.”

“How old are you, Miss Whitby?” Nathaniel did not think she was more than five-and-twenty. “And you spent only one year with each household? Why were you sent away so quickly?”

Nathaniel watched closely to see if his questions unsettled her, but she did not flinch. She remained calm, although he thought he could detect a slight blush in her cheeks.

“I am two-and-twenty, my lord. And in both of the houses, the circumstances changed, and my services were no longer required.”

He sensed that there was likely more to the story, but he did not pry. Whatever had happened at the previous homes, they had spoken highly of her. Regardless, he did not think she would be employed long enough to determine the truth of the matter. He decided to get straight to the point.

“Tell me what makes you feel that you are qualified to be the governess for my daughter.”

She once again raised her eyes to meet his, and he could see she enjoyed the challenge of the question. “I have been told, my lord, that I am able to determine what a child truly needs.”

“What Charlotte needs is discipline,” Nathaniel said, his voice stern. “I will settle for nothing less. Do you feel you are capable of providing this for her?”

“Yes, my lord,” Beatrice said. “Discipline is essential for education, and I have found that the two go hand-in-hand.”

“She must also be molded, Miss Whitby. “She must be shown how to behave, what to do, and what is expected of her. Are you also capable of that?”

“Yes, my lord. Yet I believe she must also be understood. She may just be a child, but she has thoughts and feelings that must be comprehended before she can truly learn.”

Nathaniel shifted in his chair, startled by the bold and confident way in which she spoke. He had hardly met a man to show such confidence around him, let alone a young governess. While it was strange to see, he was also impressed.

He knew that Charlotte needed someone strong to help her, and that, in order to be effective, she would need to be firm and confident enough not to be intimidated by Charlotte’s temper tantrums or sudden mood changes.

However, he also needed the governess to remember her place. “You seem to be very outspoken, Miss Whitby. Have you made it a habit to always speak your mind so bluntly?

“I aim to be honest, my lord. But it is not my wish to be impertinent.”

Nathaniel looked out the window for a moment before returning his attention to the young woman.

“And you firmly believe you will be able to give my daughter the discipline and education she requires?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Very well then. I am not certain you are up to the task, but I am willing to give you a chance. However, you must be on your best behavior.”

“Of course, my Lord,” Beatrice answered, curtsying.

“You may go,” Nathaniel said.

His gaze followed her as she quietly withdrew from the room, the door closing behind her with a soft click. He turned his attention back to the papers in front of him, but he felt strangely unsettled. He could still hear the confident tone in her voice, and he did not know if he felt more intrigued or challenged.

His thoughts were interrupted by the familiar sounds of his brother’s fast footsteps echoing through the hallway. The door burst open without a knock, and Nathaniel could not help but smile as his younger brother, Oliver, strode into the room. Only twenty-five years old, he carried himself with the restless energy of youth, though his tall frame and broad shoulders made him look older than he was.

“Hello, my lord of work and responsibility. How are you this fine morning?”

Nathaniel let out a hesitant chuckle, won over by his brother’s affable nature. He was grateful that Oliver still lived at Thornleigh Hall.

Oliver stared at Nathaniel. “What is going on? You seem a bit off today.”
de
Nathaniel shook his head. “What are you talking about? I do not feel any different than usual.”

“Not at all?” Oliver asked, smirking. “It has nothing to do with the beautiful, lithe young woman that sour old lemon Ms. Pritchard was showing all over the place earlier?”

“There is a new governess here,” Nathaniel said, choosing to ignore his brother’s smirk. “However, I do not recall seeing anyone whom I would describe as a beautiful young woman. If she is beautiful, I did not notice it.”

Oliver stared at Nathaniel in disbelief, but Nathaniel knew that he was telling the truth. He had not even noticed her appearance, because he was so captivated by her steadiness and boldness. However, the more he thought about it, he realized that her eyes were captivating, her coloring lovely, and her figure pleasing. She really was beautiful.

“You look a bit flushed, dear brother,” Oliver said, barely containing a laugh. “Perhaps you have just made an admission to yourself.”

Nathaniel shook his head, refusing to give his brother the answer he was looking for. “Think whatever you may, brother. But whether she is beautiful or not, it does not matter. She will not last a fortnight.”

Chapter Four

Beatrice took a deep breath as she pressed her trembling hands together. She stood outside the schoolroom, knowing that within the next minute or two her life would change. She pulled her shoulders back, held her head up, and tried to feel the confidence that she was projecting.

As she raised her hand to open the door, she was surprised and delighted to see Maggie walk into the hallway.
“Good morning, Miss Whitby.”

“Good morning, Maggie,” Beatrice replied.

“Gathering your courage, are you?” Maggie asked.

Beatrice smiled, but did not answer. She did not want to admit that she was nervous.

“You are smart to be cautious,” Maggie said. “That pretty little girl is a right terror, and she has caused problems for every single governess before you.”

“In what way?” Beatrice asked quietly. “What should I be prepared for?

“Different things on different days,” Maggie said with an exasperated sigh. “She often starts with little things, such as spilling ink on their clothes, putting spiders in their shoes, and pulling silly pranks.”

Beatrice looked down at the precious inkwell she held in her hands. It had once belonged to her mother and while it was a bit battered and old, with no real financial value, to Beatrice, it was precious. She carried it with her everywhere because it made her feel close to her mother.

“Do you want to know why I am not afraid?” she said to Maggie, her voice full of true confidence.

“Yes,” Maggie said. “Tell me what makes you so bold, despite everything you have heard.”

“Because of this,” Beatrice said, showing Maggie the inkwell. “This belonged to my mother, and now it is mine, and it reminds me that my mother is looking over me. I know that she taught me well, and I know that she will guide me and help me know how to best help Charlotte.”

Maggie smiled softly. “That is a beautiful story, Miss Whitby. I wish you all the best today.”

“Thank you,” Beatrice answered. “Now, I have been out here long enough. It is time to begin.”

She took one more deep breath and then opened the door and stepped into the schoolroom, full of hope and excitement. She was determined to make this work.

As she looked around the room, she was surprised to see a lovely child sitting primly in a chair, her arms folded and looking very much like a little queen. Soft brown ringlets framed the child’s small, pretty face, and bright blue eyes stared cooly across the room.

Was Maggie just teasing me? Beatrice thought. There is nothing frightful about this child.
Beatrice reminded herself that children could be manipulative, especially when they were hurting. She knew Maggie had lost her mother just two years earlier and decided to approach the child with caution.

“Good morning, Miss Charlotte,” Beatrice said, smiling kindly. “My name is Miss Whitby, and I have come to be your new governess.”
Charlotte took a deep breath and looked away, but Beatrice was not phased.

“Where would you like to begin?” she asked gently. “We can begin with geography or arithmetic. The choice is yours.”

“Oh, I would like to begin with geography,” Charlotte responded, the sweetness in her voice undermined by the bitter glare in her eye.

“Okay, geography it is,” Beatrice said. “I will ask you a question.”

“No,” Charlotte said, this time without any trace of sweetness in her tone. “I will ask you a question. Where in the world did you get such a hideous dress?”

Beatrice chose to ignore the insult. “My dress is made of silk,” she said. “Which, as you know, comes from China. Would you like to talk about China?”

“No,” Charlotte said. “I do not want to talk about China. However, I will write about China.”

Beatrice watched as Charlotte dipped her quill in the ink and then deliberately spilled it on the desk.

“You are old enough to know better than that,” Beatrice said, her words firm, but her voice gentle. “I will clean it this time. Yet if it happens again, you will clean it.”

“No,” Charlotte said. “You will clean it yourself. Always. And don’t pretend to be kind. I know that you are just here to control me, like all of the rest. You tried to trick me into thinking that I have a choice, but I know that is not your goal.”

Beatrice sat down and gently began to clean up the ink. “Want to know something that I have learned in my life?” she asked, keeping her eyes fixed on the task before her.

“No,” Charlotte answered, staring at the window.

“Well, I will tell you anyway,” Beatrice said. “I have learned that feelings tend to have volumes, and that anger is often louder than sadness.”

Beatrice quietly finished cleaning up the ink while watching Charlotte out of the side of her eye. She could sense that she had gotten the child’s attention, but she did not want to push too hard.

“I have a proposition,” she said. “I propose we start the session over. No geography or arithmetic, or spelling. I proposed we start with stories.”

Without waiting for the child’s reply, Beatrice opened her book to her favorite story.

“No,” Charlotte said. “I do not want to start with stories.”

“You do not have to listen, but I will read,” Beatrice said. She noticed that despite Charlotte’s assertion that she did not want stories, she did not leave the room.

Beatrice read the pleasant story, her voice steady and gentle. When she was finished, she turned her attention to Charlotte.

“Did you enjoy the story?” she asked. “It has been my favorite for as long as I can remember.”

Charlotte turned and looked at Beatrice through narrowed eyes, her lip curled in disdain.
“Just because I may have liked the story,” she said, “does not mean that I like you. You did not change me. It was just a good story.”

Charlotte got up and walked out of the room without waiting to be excused. Despite the rudeness of the child, Beatrice could not help but smile as she put the room back in order. As she walked out of the schoolroom, she saw Maggie once again.

“How was the session?” Maggie asked. “You do not seem to be crying.”

Beatrice could not help but chuckle as she shook her head. “No, I am not crying. There is no reason to cry because the session actually went very well.”

“It went very well?” Maggie repeated, her voice full of disbelief.

“Yes,” Beatrice said, smiling brightly. “It went very well. I believe that Charlotte and I will become fast friends, and I will be able to help her learn so much.”

Maggie stared at her and, after a few moments, began to smile. “Well, I must say that I have seen a lot of governesses recently, and you are the only one who has not cried by this point in the day. Perhaps it is a start.”

“I think it is definitely a start,” Beatrice answered, thinking that she may have found somewhat of a friend in Maggie.

Maggie began to walk away and then turned around again. “Or,” she said, a mischievous glint in her eye, “The child is just biding her time.”

Beatrice shook her head and walked toward her room, feeling confident that in time she would be able to win the child over completely.