most recent encounter with Harold leapt to mind. Unconsciously she touched the now-fading bruises below her collarbone. “Definitely.”
Bea patted her arm. “As long as you’re sure.”
Finally the good news came that Lady Grumsby was indeed interested in interviewing Miss Medford. Bea helped her friend pack, and Elizabeth purchased a seat on a traveling coach departing the following morning. No more private carriages in her future.
The coach was slow and bumpy, and at one particularly steep hill, the driver asked the passengers to walk alongside the vehicle, easing the burden on the team of horses. Never before had Elizabeth traveled like this—no companion, no chaperone, and no conveyance of her own.
She was dusty and exhausted by late afternoon, when they stopped at a coaching inn. Thankfully, the Grumsbys had sent one of their servants with a wagon to convey her the remaining distance, for spending the night alone at the inn—even if she’d acquired a private room—was too daunting a prospect.
In spite of the early start, it was nearing dark by the time they drew near Garden Home, the estate belonging to the Duke of Beaufort’s sister and her husband. Given the innocuous name, Elizabeth had been expecting a pleasant but modest estate. Instead, the wagon rolled past vast manicured lawns, and finally drew near a sprawling mansion that seemed a conglomeration of every architectural style England had known in the past four hundred years. Oddly, the effect was intriguing, softened by the profusion of spring blooms that sprouted from numerous well-tended flowerbeds.
The servant Elizabeth rode with had a delivery of milk and butter for the kitchens, and he drew the cart around back. She thanked him for his trouble, then climbed down slowly.
If this didn’t work, she had no alternate plan.
The matter of the viscountess’s relationship to Alex Bainbridge was still discomforting, but Elizabeth had resolved—assuming she was offered the position—to simply stay away from any gatherings he was likely to attend.
With trepidation, Elizabeth knocked at the rear entrance to Viscount Grumsby’s manor.
A maid came to the door and looked Elizabeth up and down. “Yes?”
“I’m here to interview for the position of governess.”
The maid modified her facial expression to one of greater respect. “Yes, mum. Lady Grumsby expects you’ll be tired from the travel. I’m to show you to a room, and you’ll interview first thing in the morn. Just this way.”
Elizabeth bit her lip but followed the maid down a corridor, unused to being treated so casually by the help. She’d best get used to it, though, for a governess’s station, while above that of a maid’s, was far lower than that to which she was accustomed.
The maid directed Elizabeth to a small but comfortable room, and after leaving briefly, returned with warm water for washing, followed by a dinner tray. Elizabeth ate, grateful her hosts seemed to have thought of everything. Still, she spent a restless night, wondering what she would do if this latest plan failed.
Elizabeth woke early and was fully dressed—not to mention anxious—by the time the maid reappeared at her door. After a quick breakfast, she was led back to the main hall.
The maid indicated a small, padded bench against one of the walls near a door that led, presumably, to a salon. “Wait just here.”
Elizabeth sat, imagining how best to present her limited qualifications when she was called in.
The maid disappeared through the doorway and reappeared moments later. “Lady Grumsby will see you now.”
Elizabeth slowly let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and entered the salon, a pleasant room decorated in shades of ivory and pale blue. A lovely brunette, a few years her senior, sat on the edge of a delicate chair near a writing desk. Her physical appearance made her relationship to her ducal brother immediately clear.
Mindful of her new social status, Elizabeth sank into a curtsy. “My lady. I had not realized I would be interviewing with the lady of the house.”
“My children are important to me. Finding a governess for them is not a task I deem appropriate to entrust to just anyone.”
Elizabeth smiled, approving of the woman’s sentiment.
“And you are Miss Medford?”
Elizabeth hesitated. She prayed the name Medford was common enough that the viscountess would not think to associate her, a girl applying for the position of governess, with the baron’s daughter of the same name. “Yes, my lady.”
“Right. Well, Miss Medford, I would not normally interview someone without references, but Lady Pullington did suggest I speak with you, so I suppose that’s a reference of sorts. And it is the Season, when most governesses have already hired on to other families, so I am considering all applicants. My last governess left rather suddenly, to care for an ailing relative. You may sit.” She gestured to a small chair, cushioned in pale yellow. “Please tell me of your qualifications.”
Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, determined to bluff her way through this, when a sudden frown creased the viscountess’s forehead.
“Wait a moment. You said your name was Medford? You’re no relation to—no, you couldn’t be. My neighbor was filling me in on all that’s happened so far in the Season and the name Medford came up, and I just thought…and your red hair…”
Elizabeth was caught. She shifted uncomfortably on the small chair. However daring she’d learned to be, she wasn’t an outright liar. “Yes, my lady. I am Lord Medford’s daughter.”
“No! But what are you doing applying as a governess?” Lady Grumsby’s eyes reflected embarrassment for them both.
“It’s rather a long story. Please, my lady, I assure you I am sincere in this application. My circumstances are no longer what they were. I need this position, and I love children. I am willing to work hard, to care for them and teach them as much as I know.” Passion filled her voice as she pled with the woman not to turn her out. This was her last, best hope.
Viscountess Grumsby folded her hands and gave Elizabeth a long look. “Have you been compromised?”
“No, my lady. But my family can no longer support two unwed daughters, and I’ve no wish to be a burden, nor do I have any suitable opportunity to wed.” Elizabeth hoped the viscountess would not pry further, for to explain that she’d refused her family’s choice of suitor and left home would not reflect well on her character, no matter how abusive that suitor might be. Better to let Lady Grumsby think she’d been an utter failure in the marriage mart.
“I see. I am sorry to hear of your family’s misfortune.” Lady Grumsby’s expression gentled, and Elizabeth breathed a sigh of relief. “You understand the responsibilities of a governess? ’Tis hardly the life you are used to.”
“Yes, my lady. I understand.”
“Well, if you were raised in Society, then I cannot fault your education. My children are young yet, but I do wish them exposed to good morals and learning.”
“Mine was most adequate, my lady.”
“I
