THE UNDESIRABLE GOVERNESS
[Illustration]
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
NEW YORK · BOSTON · CHICAGO
ATLANTA · SAN FRANCISCO
MACMILLAN & CO., LIMITED
LONDON · BOMBAY · CALCUTTA
MELBOURNE
THE MACMILLAN CO. OF CANADA, LTD.
TORONTO
THE UNDESIRABLE
GOVERNESS
BY
F. MARION CRAWFORD
AUTHOR OF “SARACINESCA,” “THE DIVA’S
RUBY,” “THE WHITE SISTER,” ETC.
ILLUSTRATED
New York
THE MACMILLAN COMPANY
1910
_All rights reserved_
COPYRIGHT, 1909, 1910,
BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.
Set up and electrotyped. Published April, 1910.
Norwood Press
J. S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.
Norwood, Mass., U.S.A.
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
Used by permission of the _Pall Mall Magazine_
FACING PAGE
“They rode races bareback in the paddock” 3
“The last governess, a lovely creature with violet eyes” 11
“In dead silence they stood quietly” 16
“‘Ellen!’ he cried, ‘in Heaven’s name, what has happened?’” 43
“Such ringing laughter as the silent moor had never heard before” 64
“‘The truth is,’ answered Lady Jane, ‘it’s about your hair’” 81
“‘I don’t think Miss Scott at all dreadful,’ answered Lionel” 88
“‘You mark my words, miss. The Lord knoweth His own’” 109
“‘Where are the girls?’ she inquired, in a frigid tone” 119
“The huge black shadow of the balloon ran swiftly over it” 151
“‘We are awfully sorry to intrude on your privacy in this way,’
he said” 163
“A scene of indescribable panic followed” 184
“‘Miss Scott! Why, I saw her at King’s Follitt a month ago!’” 198
“‘You? The daughter of Sir Randolph? You’re mad!’” 221
THE UNDESIRABLE GOVERNESS
CHAPTER I
“By-the-bye,” began Colonel Follitt, looking at his wife across the
tea-things, “have you done anything about getting a governess?”
“No,” answered Lady Jane, and a short pause followed, for the subject
was a sore one. “I have not done anything about getting a governess,”
she added presently, in the tone suitable to armed neutrality.
“Oh!” ejaculated the Colonel.
Aware that it would be hardly possible to find fault with the
monosyllable, he slowly stirred his tea. He took it sweet, with cream,
for in spite of a fairly successful military career and a well-developed
taste for sport, he was a mild man. He was also a ladies’ man, and
preferred feminine society, even in his own home, to that of
fellow-sportsmen and former brother officers. Lady Jane had, indeed, no
other fault to find with him; but this one sometimes constituted a
serious grievance.
“You talk,” said Lady Jane presently, “as if the matter was urgent.”
“I said ‘oh,’” answered her husband mildly.
“Precisely,” retorted the lady; “but I know very well what you meant.”
“If I meant anything, I meant that those two girls are all over the
place and need some one to look after them.”
“I really think I’m able to take care
[Illustration: “They rode races bareback in the paddock.”]
of them myself for a few days,” answered Lady Jane stiffly.
“No doubt, no doubt. But, all the same, I caught them potting rooks in
the park this morning with my best gun; and Barker tells me that
yesterday, when the men were at dinner, they managed to get Schoolboy
and Charley’s Aunt out of the stables on the sly and rode races bareback
in the paddock, till he came back. I don’t know why they did not break
their necks.”
Lady Jane did not seem much moved by this intelligence, for the Follitts
were a sporting family, and she had been used to their ways for a
quarter of a century.
“I will speak to them,” she said, as if that would insure their necks.
At this point their eldest son came in quietly and sat down half-way
between his father and mother. Colonel Follitt was a well-set-up,
tough-looking man, who looked younger than his age and dressed just a
little younger than he looked. There were a few lines in his face, his
well-trimmed moustache was only just beginning to turn grey, and he had
the eyes of a boy. His wife was neither fair nor dark, and quite as
well-preserved as he, besides having the advantage of being ten years
younger. But the eldest son of this good-looking couple seemed
prematurely old. He was tall, thin, and dark, and had the general air
and cut of a student. He could ride, because all the Follitts rode, and
he shot as well as the average man who is asked to fill a place for a
couple of days with an average shooting-party; but he much preferred
Sanskrit to horses, and the Upanishads to a day on the moors. From sheer
love of study he had passed for the Indian Civil Service after taking
his degree; but instead of taking an appointment he had plunged into the
dark sea of Sanskrit literature, and was apparently as much at home in
that element as a young salmon in his native stream. His father mildly
said that the only thing that might have made him seem human would have
been a little of the family susceptibility to feminine charm. But though
he was heir to a good estate, he had not yet shown the least inclination
to marry, and pretty governesses came and went unnoticed by him. Like
most students, he was very fond of his home, but he made frequent
journeys to London at all times of the year for the purpose of making
researches in the British Museum. Even the most careful mother could
feel little or no anxiety about such a son, and Lady Jane, for reasons
of her own, sometimes wished that his brothers would take up their
quarters in the neighbourhood of the British Museum for six months at a
time.
She gave him his tea now, just as he liked it, and a long silence
followed. He sat quite still, looking into his cup with the air of
pleasant but melancholy satisfaction peculiar to students who have just
left their books.
He looked up at last, towards his mother, with a far-away expression.
“By-the-bye,” he asked, “when is the new governess coming?”
A vague smile just moved Colonel Follitt’s neat moustache, but Lady
Jane’s fine brow darkened.
“I am considering the question,” she answered, as a judge sometimes
replies to a barrister’s clever insinuation, saying that the Court will
“bear the point in mind.”
Noting her manner, and well understanding what it meant, Lionel thought
it necessary to make some explanation.
“I was thinking of those girls,” he said with profound gravity.
“A little holiday will do them good,” said Lady Jane.
“So far as that goes,” answered Lionel thoughtfully, “a woman’s
education is complete when she has forgotten her arithmetic and has
learned to play the piano well enough to drive people out of the house.”
“My dear,” retorted Lady Jane, “your sisters are not learning to play
the piano.”
“Thank goodness! That is spared us. But they are forgetting their
arithmetic.”
“According to you,” replied his mother, “it is a step in the right
direction.”
“It’s all very well, but that’s no reason why they should climb to the
top of the King’s Oak by the lodge and pepper every horse that passes
with buckshot from a catapult.”
Again the Colonel’s moustache moved; but his son wore none, and not the
shadow of a smile disturbed the grave lines of his mouth.
“I will speak to them,” said Lady Jane.
“I wonder what you’ll say!”
Before Lady Jane had time to explain what she would say, her second son
appeared. He was a startling contrast to his elder brother and less than
two years younger: he was a sort of red-haired Hermes; his colouring
completely spoiled his beauty, which would have been, perhaps, too
perfect for a man, if his complexion had not been freckled like a
trout’s back and if his hair had been of any colour but that of inflamed
carrots. As it was, he was just a very fine specimen of young humanity,
and it would never have occurred to any one to call him even handsome.
He was a credit to the family, though he had only got a pass degree at
Oxford, for he had been Captain of the boats at Eton, and had pulled
Four for the ‘Varsity in a winning year. It is true that he showed no
taste for any profession or career, and seemed to have made up his mind
to spend the rest of his life at home, because there was no finer
hunting country in Great Britain; but then, there would always be
bread-and-butter and horses for him, without seeking those necessities
elsewhere, and if Lionel did not marry, he, Jocelyn, would take a wife.
In the meantime he seemed quite unconscious of the admiration that was
plentifully accorded to him by that large class of young women who
prefer a manly man to a beauty-man. At all events he was absolutely
reticent about his own affairs, and neither his mother nor his brothers
could be sure that he had ever said a word to a woman which might not be
repeated by the town crier. But there was no mistaking the glances that
were bestowed upon him, nor the tone of voice in which some of the very
nicest girls spoke to him. They could not help it, poor things. Jocelyn
sat down on a low stool between his mother and Lionel, with his heels
together, his knees apart, his shoulders bent forward, and his eyes
fixed hungrily on the buttered toast. He looked like a big, cheerful
mastiff, expecting to be fed by a friendly hand.
Lady Jane proceeded to satisfy his very apparent wants.
“I say,” he began, as he watched the cream mingling with the tea, “what
is the new Miss Kirk’s name?”
[Illustration: “The last governess, a lovely creature with violet
eyes.”]
Miss Kirk had been the last governess--a lovely creature with violet
eyes and hair that curled at her temples. Lady Jane had found her
photograph in the pocket of a shooting-coat belonging to the Colonel
which had been brought to her maid to have a button sewn on, and the
circumstance had led to the young lady’s abrupt departure. More or less
similar circumstances, in some of which her two younger sons had been
concerned, had produced similar results in a number of cases. That is
why the question of the new governess was a sore point at King’s
Follitt.
“No one has yet answered my advertisement,” answered Lady Jane, “and
none of our friends seem to know of just the right person.”
“How very odd!” observed the Colonel. “We generally get so many more
answers than we want.”
“What those girls need is a keeper,” said Jocelyn, with an audible
accompaniment of toast-crunching.
“You might get one from the County Lunatic Asylum,” suggested Lionel
thoughtfully. “You could get one for about the same price as a good
governess, I should think.”
“I don’t mean that,” answered Jocelyn. “I mean a gamekeeper. They’ve
gone in for poaching, and it’s time it was stopped.”
“Eh? What?” Colonel Follitt did not understand.
“They’ve been snaring hares all over the park. That’s one thing. Then,
they are catching all the trout in the stream with worms. If that isn’t
poaching, what is? Rather low-down form, too. Worms!”
This roused the Colonel. “Really! Upon my word, it’s too bad!”
“What becomes of the game and the fish?” inquired the Colonel.
“They give them to the postman, and he brings them chocolates in
exchange,” answered Jocelyn. “They lie in wait for him behind the hedge
on the Malton road.”
“Upon my word!” cried the Colonel again. “There’s no doubt about it,
Jane, you must get a governess at once. By-the-bye, where are they now?”
“Poaching,” answered Jocelyn, crunching steadily.
“They are welcome to the hares,” said the Colonel; “but catching trout
with worms is a little too much! In March, too!”
While he was speaking his youngest son had entered--a lean young athlete
who bore a certain resemblance to both his elder brothers, for he had
Lionel’s quiet, dark face, together with something of Jocelyn’s build
and evident energy. “I think so too,” he said crossly, as he sat down
beside his brother at the corner of the tea-table. “It’s high time that
governess came.”
“What’s the matter now?” asked Jocelyn.
Every one looked at Claude, who seemed slightly ruffled, though he was
usually the most even-tempered of the family.
“Oh, nothing! At least, I suppose not. They had the new motor out on the
moor this afternoon.”
“My new motor!” cried Lady Jane, roused at last.
Motoring was her contribution to the list of the family sports.
“Yes,” answered Claude, very quietly now. “Ferguson and I were out
looking after the young birds. Rather promising this year, I should
say.”
He vouchsafed no further information, and began to sip his tea, but Lady
Jane was trembling with anger.
“Do you mean to say that they were actually out on the moor--off the
road? Where was Raddles? You can’t mean to say that he let those
two----” Lady Jane was unable to express her feelings.
“Oh, yes. As soon as I got home I went to see about it, for I supposed
you wouldn’t be pleased. They had locked the poor devil up in the
storeroom of the garage, and he couldn’t get out. It’s really time
something was done.”
“But didn’t you try to stop them?” asked Lady Jane. “Why didn’t you get
in and bring them home yourself?”
“They bolted as soon as they saw us,” answered Claude, “and a pony
sixteen years old is no match for a new motor. When I last saw them
they were going round Thorley’s at about twenty-five miles an hour.”
“How long ago was that?” asked Lady Jane, for to tell the truth her
anger was mingled with some anxiety.
“About three o’clock,” answered Claude.
Colonel Follitt rose. “We had better go and look for them at once,” he
said gravely.
But at that moment the subjects of his uneasiness walked in together,
pink and white, smoothed and neat, and smiling innocently in a way that
would have done credit to a dachshund that had just eaten all the cake
on the table when nobody was looking.
They were a pretty pair, about fourteen and fifteen, the one fair, the
other dark, with a fresh complexion. In the dead
[Illustration: “In dead silence they stood quietly.”]
silence they stood quietly beside the tea-table, apparently waiting for
their mother to fill their cups.
“Do you mind telling us where you’ve been?” she inquired, in a tone that
boded no good.
The two girls looked at each other and then looked at her. “We’ve been
on the moor,” they said together, with a sweet smile.
“So I gathered from what Claude has just told us.”
Lady Jane looked from Gwendolen to Evelyn, and then at Gwendolen again.
She had always found it hard to face the air of mild innocence they put
on after doing something particularly outrageous.
“Oh, well, since Claude has told you all about it, of course you know. I
hope you don’t mind very much.”
“Raddles says the motor’s all right, and that it’s a very good test,
because if it will stand that it will stand anything.”
This reassuring statement was vouchsafed by Evelyn, who was the elder
sister and the fair one, and, if anything, the calmer of the two. Both
had the sweetest possible way of speaking, and seemed quite surprised
that their doings should not be thought quite normal.
“It was awfully low-down of you to go and tell, all the same,” Gwendolen
observed, smiling at Claude.
“I thought it rather natural,” he answered, “as it seemed quite probable
that you had broken your necks.”
“You deserved to, I must say,” said Lady Jane tartly, “though I’m glad
you didn’t. I shall send you both to a boarding-school to-morrow.”
But this appalling threat had been used too often to produce anything
more than an excess of meek submissiveness. The delinquents at once
assumed the air and bearing of young martyrs, took their cups quietly,
and sat down side by side on a little sofa.
“I’ll tell you what, you two,” said the Colonel: “I won’t have any one
fishing with worms in my trout streams.”
“Why? Is it any harm?” asked Evelyn, apparently surprised.
“Harm!” cried Jocelyn. “It’s poaching, it’s spoiling the fishing
outright, and it’s against the law in the close season--that’s all.”
“We didn’t know,” said Gwendolen.
“And you’d better not ride Schoolboy without my leave,” put in Jocelyn.
“Nor take Charley’s Aunt out of her box without asking me,” added
Claude.
“Nor borrow my best gun to pot rooks with,” said the Colonel.
“Nor dare to go near any of the motors, and especially not the new
Mercèdes,” enjoined Lady Jane very severely.
But by-and-by, when she was dressing for dinner, and had reached the
stage of having her hair done, she looked through the evening paper, as
she usually did during that tedious process, and she found in the column
of advertisements the one she had last inserted, and she read it over.
GOVERNESS WANTED, to take charge of two girls of 14 and 15
respectively; family residing in Yorkshire and London. Must have
first-rate degree and references. Charm of manner, symmetry of
form, and brilliancy of conversation especially not desired, as
husband and three grown-up sons much at home.--Apply by letter to
J. F., P.O. Hanton, Yorks.