A Family For The Widowed Governess. Ann Lethbridge
He handed Lady Marguerite the paper he had prepared that morning. ‘This is a list of rules with regard to the children’s activities. Please ensure they are followed.’
Lady Marguerite took the list with raised eyebrows. ‘I will let you know if I think they are suitable.’
He gritted his teeth. ‘They are my rules.’
‘I see.’ She glanced around the nursery. ‘We cannot work in here, I am afraid. The girls need tables, easels and drawing implements.’
He’d thought of that. ‘Let me show you the schoolroom. I am sure you will find it meets your needs.’
He led her to the very end of the hallway and opened the door. ‘Will this do?’
It was a large airy space that he and his wife had prepared for the large brood they had expected. They had incorporated it into this wing of the house with a good deal of joyful anticipation. Now it only made him feel sad.
Lady Marguerite nodded. ‘This will do very well, my lord.’
‘The cupboard contains supplies I obtained on the instructions of the last two governesses. I recall they included things like pens and ink and charcoal.’
She crossed to the cupboard and scanned its contents. He could not help but admire the way she strode across the room with a purposeful step. She was ladylike, but also confident as his wife had never been. Which was why he still did not understand why on earth she would have gone out when night was drawing in on foot and alone. A lie. To himself. He knew why. She had gone alone and without talking to him because she knew he would not approve.
‘This looks like a very good start,’ Lady Marguerite said and turned to face him.
‘Excellent. Let me know if anything else is required.’
She glanced around. ‘If we could have this table moved closer to the window, it would be better.’
‘I’ll send a man up to do it.’
She nodded and looked down at his note. She ran her eye down the list and frowned. ‘This is very restrictive, my lord.’
‘As you have seen already, the girls are not easy to manage. I believe these rules will ensure their safety.’
She took a little breath and he had the feeling she intended to argue with him about his instructions. Instead, she gave a little shake of her head. ‘And my fee?’
He handed over four guineas. ‘For this week. We will discuss the future on Friday.’
She slipped the money into her reticule. ‘About the groom you sent to my house—’
‘No need to thank me. I am simply ensuring you arrive on time to give your lessons.’
‘But—’
‘No buts. I do not want the smell of horses in my daughters’ schoolroom.’
She glared at him and muttered something under her breath. It sounded a bit like ‘Men. Impossible.’
He pretended not to hear. ‘Shall we fetch Elizabeth and Janey?’
She pressed her lips in a straight line and for one long moment he thought she was going to refuse to teach them. Then her shoulders drooped a fraction and she nodded.
Damnation. He should be pleased, not feeling like a bully. He was right about needing to establish proper rules and regulations. He was the girls’ papa. He could not risk anything happening to them. This was the best way to keep them safe.
Marguerite showed the girls how to draw basic shapes—squares, circles, triangles and ovals—and set them to practising on slates. There was no sense in using up valuable paper for this exercise. Lizzie was reluctant, but eventually complied.
While the girls worked she stood behind them and, with one eye on what they were doing, she reread His Lordship’s list of rules.
The children were to remain in the schoolroom at all times. They were to be walked from the nursery and back again. Walked. No running allowed. They were to have a snack sent up after the first hour of lessons. They were not to go outside or downstairs. She was also to make sure they minded their manners and, if they were rude, she was to report them to Nanny or himself.
She frowned. Were their lives so completely regimented? The man seemed to want to control every aspect of what they did or did not do. A shiver ran down her spine. She had not grown up under such strict controls, but she had experienced it with her husband. It had been awful. Was Lord Compton like Neville? If so, could she actually be complicit in something she did not like or believe in?
‘Is this right, my lady?’ Janey asked.
She had drawn a lovely circle. One of the hardest things to master. The line wavered a bit here and there, but for a first try it was very good.
‘That is exactly what is needed,’ Marguerite said.
Janey put down her chalk and shook her hand. ‘That was hard.’
‘It is not easy,’ Marguerite admitted. ‘But it is worth the effort. Lizzie, how are you doing?’
The child sat back. She had copied all of the demonstrated shapes across her slate in a rather slapdash manner. The circle did not join up. The triangles lines overlapped. The square looked more like a diamond.
Marguerite smiled. ‘A very good first attempt.’ She drew a circle next to the one Lizzie had drawn. ‘See if you can get it looking a bit more even. The lines are supposed to touch.’
‘This is silly,’ Lizzie said, folding her hands across her chest. ‘I want to draw a picture. Not shapes.’
‘You cannot draw anything unless you know how to draw these shapes and several others I will show you,’ Marguerite said. ‘Everything is made up of shapes.’
Lizzie frowned. ‘I don’t understand. I want to draw a horse. It is horse shaped.’
Marguerite smiled. ‘Let us see, shall we?’ She moved to an empty space on the blackboard and started to draw. She showed them how circles and ovals and rectangles worked together to create the basic shape of a horse. ‘This is only the start,’ she said, turning to face them. ‘But this is why you need to know these shapes.’
Janey clapped her hands. ‘It looks just like a horse.’
Lizzie frowned. ‘That looks nothing like a real horse.’
‘But it will eventually,’ Marguerite said. She softened the lines, drew the mane and tail. ‘The better you get at controlling shapes, the easier it will become.’
Lizzie looked unconvinced, but rubbed her slate clean and started again.
A knock at the door. Their snack had arrived. Apples and cheese and milk, and tea for her. Well, at least the girls were properly fed. The two girls tore into the apples and gobbled up the cheese.
Marguerite laughed. ‘Slow down, ladies. Where are your manners?’
The girls stopped and stared at her. They continued to eat, but with much more decorum. Yet Marguerite had the feeling they were holding themselves back. As if they were starving. How could that be? Was it possible that they were deprived of food as some sort of punishment?
Once they had finished and cleaned up they went back to drawing on their slates.
* * *
By the end of the second hour, Marguerite had them connecting shapes.
‘Very soon, you will be ready to start putting your drawings on paper,’ she said as they cleared up the slates and chalks to put them away. ‘If you want to practise these shapes by yourself, you