Read Online The Secret Pearl by Mary Balogh - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Mary Balogh
Ads: Link
Lady Pamela sit forward in her seat, looking at the scenery pass the window, waving at the gatekeeper’s wife, and chattering intermittently about the Chamberlains’ dogs.
“Mama will not allow me to have a dog,” she said, “or a cat. Or a rabbit,” she added a moment later.
For almost the first time in their acquaintance, Fleur felt, her pupil looked like a child.
Mr. Chamberlain was a widower of about forty years, who lived with his sister and his three children in an elegant manor that looked remarkably like the cozy manor of her dreams when she had been traveling into Dorsetshire, Fleur thought.
She explained to Miss Chamberlain, an elegant lady in her mid-thirties, who wore a lace cap on her smoothly parted darkhair, that her grace was indisposed and that Lady Pamela had been disappointed at the prospect of losing the treat of playing with the children. She asked to be allowed to sit in the servants’ quarters for an hour.
“In the servants’ quarters?” Miss Chamberlain said with a laugh. “I would not hear of any such thing, Miss Hamilton. You are Lady Pamela’s new governess? We heard that there was one. You will take tea with Duncan and me, if you please, while the children play.”
Fleur followed her hostess into the drawing room, where they were soon joined by Mr. Chamberlain, who bowed to her and showed no outward chagrin at being forced to take tea with a mere governess.
“Our conversation will doubtless be drowned out by barkings before long, Miss Hamilton,” he said. “The poor dogs will be dragged inside to the nursery to be played with. It is always so when Lady Pamela is here. She does not have the chance to mingle with other children or with animals often enough, I believe.”
“And she had been taught that horses are dangerous,” Miss Chamberlain added, handing Fleur her cup and saucer.
Her brother smiled at her. “I suppose it would be easy to be overprotective of an only child,” he said. “It is a pity Adam is not home more often. Have you heard if he is to return for the ball, Miss Hamilton?”
“I am afraid I do not know, sir,” Fleur said.
“It will not be the same without him,” he said. “But the Willoughby balls are always the most splendid of occasions. Opinion seems to be evenly divided in the neighborhood as to whether the indoor balls or the outdoor are the more so. Emily believes the outdoor ones far more romantic, don’t you, my dear?”
“Oh, more romantic, yes, without a doubt,” she said. “I am not sure that they are more splendid. There is nothing like a promenade along the long gallery, Miss Hamilton, with musicwafting through from the great hall and candles lit in all the wall sconces and all the Ridgeway ancestors watching. Are you pleased with your place of employment?”
Fleur spent a pleasant hour conversing with brother and sister and walking in their flower arbor with them. They seemed quite unperturbed by the sounds of boisterous merriment coming from the upper part of the house.
“I employ a nurse to worry about broken bones and pulled hair and such,” Mr. Chamberlain said when Fleur expressed her hope that Lady Pamela was behaving as she ought. “A little noise I can easily endure.”
“By shutting yourself off into your books, Duncan,” his sister said. “One could yell boo into his ear when he is reading, Miss Hamilton, and he would be oblivious.”
For one hour Fleur felt like a real person again. Though perhaps even the word “again” was inappropriate, she thought as she led a reluctant Lady Pamela to the carriage for the return ride home. She had never been treated with a great deal of respect when she lived at Heron House.
“We will bring the children to the Hall for a return visit one afternoon,” Mr. Chamberlain said, taking Fleur’s hand to help her into the carriage. “Thank you for bringing the child, Miss Hamilton. I am sure the outing has done her good. And thank you for calling on us.”
“I do not
“Mama will not allow me to have a dog,” she said, “or a cat. Or a rabbit,” she added a moment later.
For almost the first time in their acquaintance, Fleur felt, her pupil looked like a child.
Mr. Chamberlain was a widower of about forty years, who lived with his sister and his three children in an elegant manor that looked remarkably like the cozy manor of her dreams when she had been traveling into Dorsetshire, Fleur thought.
She explained to Miss Chamberlain, an elegant lady in her mid-thirties, who wore a lace cap on her smoothly parted darkhair, that her grace was indisposed and that Lady Pamela had been disappointed at the prospect of losing the treat of playing with the children. She asked to be allowed to sit in the servants’ quarters for an hour.
“In the servants’ quarters?” Miss Chamberlain said with a laugh. “I would not hear of any such thing, Miss Hamilton. You are Lady Pamela’s new governess? We heard that there was one. You will take tea with Duncan and me, if you please, while the children play.”
Fleur followed her hostess into the drawing room, where they were soon joined by Mr. Chamberlain, who bowed to her and showed no outward chagrin at being forced to take tea with a mere governess.
“Our conversation will doubtless be drowned out by barkings before long, Miss Hamilton,” he said. “The poor dogs will be dragged inside to the nursery to be played with. It is always so when Lady Pamela is here. She does not have the chance to mingle with other children or with animals often enough, I believe.”
“And she had been taught that horses are dangerous,” Miss Chamberlain added, handing Fleur her cup and saucer.
Her brother smiled at her. “I suppose it would be easy to be overprotective of an only child,” he said. “It is a pity Adam is not home more often. Have you heard if he is to return for the ball, Miss Hamilton?”
“I am afraid I do not know, sir,” Fleur said.
“It will not be the same without him,” he said. “But the Willoughby balls are always the most splendid of occasions. Opinion seems to be evenly divided in the neighborhood as to whether the indoor balls or the outdoor are the more so. Emily believes the outdoor ones far more romantic, don’t you, my dear?”
“Oh, more romantic, yes, without a doubt,” she said. “I am not sure that they are more splendid. There is nothing like a promenade along the long gallery, Miss Hamilton, with musicwafting through from the great hall and candles lit in all the wall sconces and all the Ridgeway ancestors watching. Are you pleased with your place of employment?”
Fleur spent a pleasant hour conversing with brother and sister and walking in their flower arbor with them. They seemed quite unperturbed by the sounds of boisterous merriment coming from the upper part of the house.
“I employ a nurse to worry about broken bones and pulled hair and such,” Mr. Chamberlain said when Fleur expressed her hope that Lady Pamela was behaving as she ought. “A little noise I can easily endure.”
“By shutting yourself off into your books, Duncan,” his sister said. “One could yell boo into his ear when he is reading, Miss Hamilton, and he would be oblivious.”
For one hour Fleur felt like a real person again. Though perhaps even the word “again” was inappropriate, she thought as she led a reluctant Lady Pamela to the carriage for the return ride home. She had never been treated with a great deal of respect when she lived at Heron House.
“We will bring the children to the Hall for a return visit one afternoon,” Mr. Chamberlain said, taking Fleur’s hand to help her into the carriage. “Thank you for bringing the child, Miss Hamilton. I am sure the outing has done her good. And thank you for calling on us.”
“I do not
Similar Books
