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‘Yes, perhaps. I must go up and put on my bonnet. I shall not linger, but walk straight there and back.’
Sarah left her pupil sitting at the pianoforte and the sound of music followed her up the stairs. Francesca was still playing when she returned and left the house by a side door. She had the piece almost right, but there was one passage that she rushed every time. Sarah would show her how it should be played another day.
It was the first time she’d gone for a walk alone since it had rained. The air was fresh with the scents of early summer and the hedgerows were bright with flowers, wild roses twining amongst them and bringing the countryside alive with colour.
* * *
She had reached the village without incident and entered the inn, having noticed a horse with a white mark on its rump. She thought it might have belonged to Lord Myers, but wasn’t sure. If he were here, she hoped they would not meet. It would be embarrassing if he thought she’d sought him out. As far as she’d known, he’d ridden over to a neighbour’s house on some business.
She was met by the host’s wife, who took her letters and asked her for four sixpences, to cover the cost of sending them post.
‘It would be less if they waited for the mail coach, miss, but if you want them sent urgently it must be two shillings.’
‘That is perfectly all right,’ Sarah said and handed over her two shillings. ‘Do you have any letters for Miss Hardcastle care of Miss Hester Goodrum?’
‘Yes, as a matter of fact one arrived by post this afternoon.’ The innkeeper’s wife looked at her curiously. ‘You’re Miss Goodrum, governess to the children up at Cavendish Park, aren’t you?’
‘Yes, I am.’ Sarah saw the curiosity in her eyes. ‘Miss Hardcastle is...well, I am accepting letters for her.’
‘Oh, well, I suppose it’s all right, as it says “care of”,’ the woman said a little doubtfully. ‘I normally like to be sure a letter is given to the right person.’
‘I assure you I am the right person to receive this letter—and any others that are similarly addressed.’
‘Is something wrong, Miss Goodrum?’
Sarah jumped and glanced round as Lord Myers spoke. ‘No. I am just collecting some letters. Everything is as it should be.’ She took the letter from the woman’s reluctant hand as she seemed paralysed by Lord Myers’s arrival and was staring at him, seemingly mesmerised.
Sarah slipped the letter, which was quite a thick packet, into her reticule, but she feared that Lord Myers might have caught sight of the wording of the address before she could do so.
‘Is Francesca not with you?’ he asked, walking to the inn door and opening it for her. He walked out into the yard, standing for a moment in the sunshine as she hesitated.
‘Francesca wished to practise the music she is learning. I had some letters I wished to post.’
‘Do you write many letters, Miss Goodrum?’
‘Yes, several.’
‘To your family? Or are you seeking another post?’
‘I am not seeking another post at the moment. I have no reason to leave—have I?’
‘Only you can know that, Miss Goodrum.’
Sarah hesitated, then, ‘I understand you have engaged a dancing master for Francesca?’
‘Actually, her grandfather did so himself. I wrote and said I thought it might be a good thing and he sent word that he had seen to it. I heard this morning and told Francesca. I believe he is French—Monsieur Andre Dupree, I think he is called.’
‘Ah, I see. I had thought you might teach her yourself?’
‘I decided it might be wiser to employ a dancing master—for various reasons. Besides, most of my time is taken up with tutoring John—and there is estate business.’
‘You have been busy, I know.’
‘Yes.’ His gaze narrowed. ‘I should be returning to the house. My business here is done—and John should have had his riding lessons for the day.’
‘Yes.’ She hesitated, then, ‘Francesca wondered if you would both join us for tea today. I think she misses her brother.’
‘Yes, things have not quite gone to plan. We must have our picnic before the fine weather disappears again. Have you written the invitations?’
‘They need only the day and date. I was waiting for your approval.’
‘Then make them for this Friday. We must hope that the weather stays fine. I am told some of the strawberries will be ready for picking and that might amuse both the children and our guests.’
‘It will not amuse Francesca to be called a child. She will soon be seventeen.’
‘Not for a few months. I shall try to remember.’ He inclined his head to her. ‘I shall not keep you, Miss Goodrum—if that is your name...’
With that he walked away, leaving Sarah to stare after him in dismay. It was the first time he’d talked to her for a week, but she could not deceive herself; his manner was decidedly cool towards her. She was not sure if he was angry or whether he simply did not trust her.
Shrugging off her painful thoughts, she walked on towards the house. She would read her letter later, alone in her room. Sarah had recognised the hand and knew it came from the agent who oversaw her mills. Since he had written extensively there might be a problem.
Sarah sighed. For the past few years she’d dealt with the problems as they arose, but it had been pleasant not to have to think of them for the past week. It might be nice to be married and leave business to her husband, but it would have to be the right man for the sake of all those who relied on her for their living. Sir Roger would squander her money and care nothing for her people. Until she found someone she could trust and like enough to marry, she would have to carry on—but her agents must manage without her for a while. She would not leave Francesca in the lurch unless she was forced.
* * *
What was she up to now? Rupert was thoughtful as he put his horse to a canter. His business that afternoon had concerned the governess and he wondered why he had not mentioned it to her. Something in her manner had been guilty and it had made him hold back the news he thought might be interesting for her. She had definitely hidden that letter and so quickly that he hardly caught sight of the lettering, but he was sure it had been addressed to someone care of Miss Goodrum.
He’d sensed a mystery from the start and now he was certain that she was hiding something. Could she be collecting letters for Francesca? Had the young girl formed an attachment before he arrived, one she now wished to hide from him? Rupert frowned. Francesca was surely too young to have a lover—would her governess be complicit in such a deceit?
Or was it simply that Miss Goodrum was not what she claimed to be, as he’d suspected almost from the start? Why had she lied about her identity?
The mystery deepened and he decided he had been right to keep his distance these past few days. To allow himself to like the governess rather more than was sensible would be to invite all manner of problems.
Whatever she was hiding was bound to be unsavoury. He felt disappointed to discover that she was almost certainly the adventuress he’d thought her at the start. She might seem innocent, delightful and charming, but she was undoubtedly playing a part for his sake—to deceive him, or to ensnare him?
* * *
The thoughts had gone round and round in his head as he had ridden rode home. Dismounting, he entered the house and immediately encountered John, who was full of his afternoon’s outing. The youth’s enthusiasm put the mystery of the letter from Rupert’s thoughts. He told John to wash his hands and meet him in the drawing room for tea, taking the stairs two at a time in his haste not to be late.
Rupert must simply continue to keep the governess in her proper place for all their sakes. If she were truly innocent, his need to seduce her could only bring her to ruin—and if she were a courtesan it would lead to distress for Francesca.
Yet he lay restless in his bed each night, thinking of her in her chaste bed and burning with need that drove him mad. He wanted her as he’d wanted no other—and he could not put her out of his head.
Oh, damn the woman! He would not allow her beneath his skin. No woman had been allowed to ruffle his feelings in this way for years and he would not give this enchanting minx the satisfaction of knowing how she had affected him the night they’d played chess together.
* * *
‘Oh, good,’ Francesca exclaimed as she saw her brother and Rupert waiting for her in the drawing room. ‘I’m so pleased you are to join us for tea. It isn’t the same when you don’t.’
‘Blackie jumped the fence at Three Mile Bottom.’ John’s enthusiasm carried him away. ‘You should come out with me one afternoon.’
‘Yes, I should like that—but I’d like Sarah to come as well. I’m not sure we have a suitable horse for her.’
‘As a matter of fact—’ Rupert broke off as Sarah entered. She was wearing a plain, dark-grey gown, very suitable for a governess, but somehow managed to make it look as if a lady of quality was wearing it. ‘I bought one this afternoon. So you will all be able to ride together.’
‘Did you hear that, Sarah?’ Francesca turned to her with a smile of delight. ‘Uncle Rupert bought a horse you could ride. You will ride with us, won’t you?’
‘Oh... Yes, of course.’ Sarah smiled. ‘Sorry, my mind was elsewhere. Did you say the horse was bought for me to ride?’ She looked at Rupert in surprise. ‘That was extremely thoughtful of you, sir.’
‘Francesca wanted you to be able to ride with her. She said you were accustomed to riding when at your home—is that true?’
‘Yes, I ride whenever I have the time.’ Sarah’s cheeks were warm as she took her seat. ‘Shall you ring for tea, Francesca?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Francesca did so and looked at her enquiringly. ‘Is something wrong, Sarah? You look worried.’
‘I had a letter that was a little worrying, a family matter,’ Sarah said. ‘Forgive me if my mind wanders. It was something of a shock to me.’
‘No one is ill, I hope?’ Rupert asked, his gaze narrowed.
‘Not exactly. There is a family problem, however. I hope to avoid it, but I may have to leave for a while should things develop.’
‘Oh, no, I don’t want you to go,’ Francesca said instantly. ‘Please don’t—unless you have to, of course.’
‘I have no intention of it,’ Sarah replied and smiled at her. ‘I think the problem may be dealt with by a series of letters—but should it not, then I might be away for a week or two.’
‘Is there anything I may do to help?’ Rupert asked. ‘Any service I could perform for you?’
Sarah’s eyes moved to his face and for a moment she seemed to hesitate, but then, as the door opened to admit the maids with the tea trays, she shook her head. He waited until after the maids had retreated and then persisted.
‘We could speak later in private, if you wish?’
‘You are...kind,’ Sarah said and looked hesitant. ‘I believe I can deal with the matter myself for the moment.’
Rupert accepted a cup from Francesca’s hand and helped himself to rich fruitcake, which was always his favourite. He could see that the governess was more disturbed than she would say and his sense of frustration increased.
Was she in trouble or was her friend—the friend for whom she had received that letter? It had looked more like a packet and he was curious as to what was in it. He would be most interested in reading the contents of Sarah’s package.
‘Why don’t you all go riding in the morning?’ he suggested. ‘I think we might forget lessons for once. Miss Goodrum should get to know her horse and yours will suffer if you do not exercise the poor beast more, Francesca.’
‘Yes, let’s all go riding in the morning,’ John said, excited at the prospect. ‘You will come too, Uncle Rupert?’
‘Unfortunately, I have some things to attend to,’ he replied. ‘I may ride out and join you later, once it is finished.’
‘It would be pleasant to ride again,’ Sarah said and some of the anxiety seemed to leave her eyes. ‘Although I do not have a habit with me, unfortunately.’
‘I think there may be something in Mama’s trunks,’ Francesca replied and smiled at her. ‘You are not dissimilar in height and build and may make a few adjustments if they are needed.’
‘If we could look for it before dinner, I could make the alterations this evening,’ Sarah agreed. ‘Riding is such good exercise and I have felt its lack of late.’
Rupert felt pleased that he’d been able to help her in some small way, even though there was guilt at the back of his mind. With all the children out of the way he would have the opportunity to enter the governess’s room and make a brief search for that letter.
A part of his mind was horrified at the idea and yet the other was telling him that as her employer’s representative he had every right to discover what she was hiding.
* * *
‘It was so kind of you to purchase the horse for my use,’ Sarah said when she came down the next morning. She was wearing a borrowed habit, which had belonged to Francesca’s mother. Sarah had taken down the hem a little, but it was otherwise a reasonable fit. Although not fashionable or exactly Sarah’s style, it looked well enough. ‘It is a pity you cannot come with us. I think John was anxious to show you how much he has learned.’
Rupert looked into her clear eyes and felt his guilt deepen. It would be pleasant to ride with them and he almost gave in to temptation, but his suspicions needed to be answered.
‘Yes, well, perhaps my business need not take long. Which way do you intend to ride?’
‘Francesca said we might ride past the water meadows and come back through the village.’
‘Very well, perhaps I shall join you later on your ride.’
‘I do hope so,’ she said, smiled again and went to join the others. He heard the sound of voices and laughter outside as the grooms helped them to mount and the party set out.
Walking upstairs, Rupert fought down his rising sense of guilt. He paused outside the governess’s room, knocked and then entered. Looking round, he saw that it was very neat, the bed made and nothing out of place. Obviously, she was in the habit of keeping things tidy and did not make extra work for the maids.
He could see no sign of any papers. The desk that had been provided for her use was empty of letters or personal items, displaying only the inkwell and pen trays, also a pad for leaning one’s paper on. His heart thudding and a sick feeling in his stomach, Rupert walked to the desk. He had never done such a despicable thing in his life. Feeling like the worst sort of rogue, he picked up the pad and saw that the soft surface had indentations, but though he studied them for a moment he could not pick out any words. He hesitated, then opened the long top drawer. It was empty. Each of the first two drawers on the side was similarly unused, but in the third he found a small wooden box, which was obviously used to store papers and letters. It was locked.
Rupert glanced round the room. Where would the key be hidden—or did she have it with her? He considered making a search and then the enormity of what he was doing swept over him.
This was despicable! Miss Goodrum was entitled to her privacy and he was not behaving as a gentleman ought. If he wanted her confidence, he must earn it. Replacing the box, he closed the desk drawer and left the room. As he reached the end of the hall, he saw a maid approaching. She looked at him curiously, no doubt wondering what he was doing so far from his own rooms.
He would change into his riding breeches, walk down to the stables and go in search of his pupils and their governess.
* * *
Sarah had been pleasantly surprised in the mare she was given. It was a spirited creature and far superior to what she had expected might be offered to a mere governess. Lord Myers was clearly a good judge of horses and she was going to enjoy the experience.
She had spent some hours thinking before she was able to sleep the previous evening. Her agent had sent her a package containing several business matters, most of which she had managed to settle easily in a few words. The letter was lying unfinished in her writing box, because she had not been able to decide about what to do on the other matter.
Sam had told her that he had received an offer to purchase all her mills.
It comes from a solicitor, Miss Harding. He has not revealed the buyer’s name, but says that his client is well able to purchase all the mills and the price he is offering is far better than anything you’ve been offered before. My only hesitation in urging you to sell would be to do with his keeping his identity secret. There are certain men—rivals of your father—who might decide to either shut down the mills and sell off the property to reduce competition for their own trade or reduce wages and increase working hours. Your father was widely believed too generous and some of the mill owners thought that he had made it impossible for them to make the profits they wished, because key workers demanded the same rates as your father paid. However, I feel that while you have managed thus far you may find it hard to maintain the level of efficiency needed if you marry and have a family, as your father would have wished. Your husband might not have the same feeling for the workers as both you and your father have shown.
I await your decision as always,
Samuel Barnes
Sarah knew that the price offered was a good one. Perhaps not the full worth of the mills, but near enough to make it a viable proposition. It would be the easy way out for her, particularly since she had been wishing to make a change for a while. Had she been content with her life, she would not have felt the need to change places with Hester Goodrum.
However, coming here had made her see how pleasant a similar life might be. She would not wish to simply hand over everything to someone else. Even if she married, she would wish to be informed of all that was happening and to be consulted about any changes in the way things were run. It had come to her of late that in the right circumstances she could happily amuse herself with a family and friends, leaving business to her husband for the main part. If she were involved in the decision-making and consulted before the workers were put on short time—or, indeed, more were taken on, if the mill prospered—she did not need to be involved in the day-to-day running of the place.
Her uncle had always insisted she should take a husband and leave her business to him, but Sarah had felt compelled to keep her hands on the reins. She no longer felt as if she wished to spend all her life coping with the problems of running her father’s business empire and would be happy to hand much of it to another.
Yet she could not simply abandon her people and her principles to someone who might abuse them. Sarah was well aware that despite rumblings in Parliament, where the plight of mill workers and others in similar jobs had been debated, nothing of any consequence had been done to force the owners to treat their people decently. Women and even children worked in terrible conditions for long hours; they were given only a few minutes’ break to relieve themselves or drink some water and their mealtimes were restricted to a quarter of an hour in many cases. If they complained they were sent home and would be blacked by the other employers so that they found it impossible to get another job. The men fared little better and any that dared to speak out against the conditions might have to travel miles to find work to keep their families from starving. Sarah had recently taken in a family who had been thrown out of their home and refused work. Sam had told her that once Mr Arkwright discovered what she’d done, he would be very angry.
‘Matt Arkwright is a hard man, Miss Hardcastle. He fell out with your father over the wages he paid and they almost came to blows. He’ll not take kindly to you giving succour to a man he’s dismissed.’
‘If he does not like it, he must learn to live with it.’ Sarah had shrugged off her agent’s warning, but the next day she’d received a visit from Mr Arkwright. He had spent an hour haranguing her and left after issuing threats.
‘You’re a haughty piece, Miss Hardcastle, but you’ll come unstuck. You think your wealth entitles you to act like a lady and carry on with your head in the clouds, but one of these days you’ll go too far.’
‘I fail to see what business it is of yours whom I choose to employ, sir.’
‘We mine owners stick together. If you give these troublemakers an inch, they’ll take a yard. Before you know it, we’ll have rioting and people will get hurt. You’ve been warned, Miss Hardcastle. Think on it!’
Sarah had put the unpleasant scene from her mind. She did not think the man she’d employed was a troublemaker and had no intention of letting a rival owner tell her how to run her affairs. However, she now wondered if it was Matt Arkwright who had offered for the mills. She’d almost made up her mind to reject the offer, but if it was Arkwright she would have made herself an enemy.
Yet to allow him to destroy all her father had set out to do was unthinkable.
‘Isn’t it lovely out?’ Francesca asked, coming up beside her. ‘How do you like your mare?’
‘She is perfect. Very responsive,’ Sarah said. ‘John is ahead of us—shall we catch him up?’
‘Yes.’ Francesca did not immediately suit her actions to her words. ‘Are you still upset? You won’t have to leave us, will you?’
‘No, I shan’t leave you for a while,’ Sarah said. ‘Come on, let’s try them out...’
She touched her heels lightly to the mare’s flanks and set off in pursuit of John, who had ridden on with his groom at a faster pace. She would not let the problem of the mills upset her. Although this interlude could not last long, she was determined to make the most of it for as long as she could.
* * *
Rupert saw the group just ahead of him. He had set out after them, expecting that it might take some time to catch up, but obviously they had ambled along for much of the ride. They had separated out a little, John and the groom ahead and the two girls at the rear. He saw they were just about to set out in pursuit when something caught his eye. A man was watching them, and as Rupert watched he drew out a pistol and fired in their direction.
‘Look out!’ The warning made the rogue’s arm jerk. He turned, stared at Rupert, then set off at a run, disappearing into the trees. ‘Damn it!’
Rupert saw that the shot had caused one of the ladies to fall from her horse. He was tempted to pursue the rogue who had fired at them, but knew the ladies came first. Swearing to himself, he rode up to them, his feelings mixed as he saw it was Francesca on the ground. Relieved that Sarah was all right, he was off his horse and kneeling over Francesca in an instant.
‘Are you all right? Did that rogue wing you?’
‘No...’ Francesca accepted his hand and stood up. ‘The shot went wide of us, but my horse reared and I slid off. I feel such an idiot. I should have managed to hang on.’
‘Not your fault,’ Rupert said. ‘Have you broken anything? Do you feel any pain?’
‘No, just a little bruised. I think my pride is hurt more than anything else. I thought I was a good horsewoman.’
‘So you are,’ Sarah assured her. ‘That poacher’s shot spooked your horse, that’s all. Anyone could have fallen off the way you did.’
‘Sarah is right,’ Rupert agreed. ‘You mustn’t blame yourself or your horse. Damned poacher! I would have gone after him, but I was concerned you might be hurt.’
‘No, I’m all right. I thought Grandfather’s keepers had scared off all the poachers.’
‘Apparently not this one,’ Rupert replied grimly. ‘I’ll have them double the watch. I know this isn’t technically a part of the estate, but it’s still private property. It belongs to Lord Henry James and he will have to be told. He will not want poachers on his estate.’
‘Lord James is hardly ever here,’ Francesca said. ‘I think he spends most of his time in London. However, I heard that his nephew, Sir Roger Grey, had come down to oversee the property for him for a little while.’