Chapter IX: Could I Be a Governess?

I watched the carriage till it disappeared at the turn of the road among the oaks, and then I suddenly remembered that Mrs. Chandos had said they were looking out for an Italian governess. “Why should not I inquire whether they would take me?” It seemed the easiest and readiest plan; but--I knew nothing of governesses except what I had read about them in novels; and these generally gave a fearful picture of the hardships of their lives, and the unkind treatment they met with. Still they were often heroines; and their stories sometimes ended happily.

I had never even seen a live governess myself, and had no idea what I might be expected to teach, or how I was to teach at all. Italian!--well, I could read to the children in that language; but then as I had never even learnt it myself--I mean that it was my native language--I should find it even more difficult to teach than I should other languages which the good nuns had taught me in the convent. Still, I could but try; and the attractive figure of that little fairy, Norah, seemed to smoothe many difficulties, so I ran downstairs and disclosed my plan very triumphantly to Mrs. Mordaunt.

But the matter-of-fact slowness with which she spoke of the madness and impossibility of my scheme was a sad damper. She declared that it would be a disgrace to the whole family; that such a thing was never heard of; that Mrs. Chandos might as well propose to engage one of the Duke of L----’s daughters for her governess, if they were poor. And why could I not live with her?

“Because you know that Mr. Mordaunt said yesterday that it was impossible, for many reasons.”

“But I do not think as he does when he is angry--that we are both to die before the next morning, and leave nothing but debts behind us. You must not attend to what he says when he is in that state of excitement.”

“Well, but I should like to do something to be independent,” I said, with a feeling of utter depression. For I felt I should not like to live for ever with Mrs. Mordaunt, though she certainly was a very good woman. I then asked her whether Miss Chandos told her that she had seen me at the window?

“Yes,” she said; “and I wondered how you happened to be in that corner room. Mrs. Chandos quite apologised for poor Norah’s having taken the liberty to nod to you without having been introduced. It _was_ odd of her,” she added, after a pause. “But, do you know, I always thought she was an odd girl; and never could quite see why Aunt Jane raved about her so. And she is not accomplished either--she can’t play or sing half so well as you; and she don’t draw; and----”

“Oh! but I thought she was quite charming. I never saw a more attractive face, even at that distance.”

“She’s a nice little girl, that’s all; but she is not to be compared with---- Well, never mind, but I agree with Mr. Mordaunt about looks, and we both admire quite a different style of beauty.”

It may sound vain, but I knew she meant me, for I sometimes had remarked that she seemed quite absorbed in looking at me; and now I felt half annoyed because she could not appreciate a style of beauty which I admired so much more than I did my own.

“I always thought you liked Norah Chandos. You seemed to agree with what Aunt Jane said of her.”

“Yes, I think she is a good girl, and certainly behaved very well to all her brothers and sisters after her mother’s death; but still I thought she was unlike other girls. She was more childish, and yet like an old person, too. That odd mixture puzzles me, for I am not clever, like Aunt Jane, and cannot judge of people or character as she does. I only know what I see, and even then one’s often deceived. I might be deceived in you now, for I never quite know what to think about you. I’m so puzzled, often.”

The post had not yet gone out, so I added a postscript to the letter I had written the evening before to Aunt Jane, and told her of my having seen Norah from the window, and of my wish to be engaged as governess in that family. She had fortunately given her niece’s address in Madeira, but what a weary time I should have to wait for her answer!

The next evening Mr. Mordaunt returned from London, and we saw at once, by his face, that he had no good news to tell. We perceived that he was still angry, because, instead of greeting us with his usual somewhat formal civility, he found fault with the footman for having let the drawing-room fire out. He was a very chilly man, and although it was Summer, there was always a fire in the evenings in the large north drawing-room where we sat.

“Dined, I suppose? Oh! never mind. I had a tough cutlet and some infernal sherry at the station.”

In vain Mrs. Mordaunt suggested that a good dinner could be ready in five minutes, and that she was sure he ought to have some after the long railroad journey. He sharply refused, and continued resolutely to spread out his thin hands over the fire, which he declared obstinately refused to burn.

“Did you see your nephew, Sir Alfred Rivers?” inquired Mrs. Mordaunt, who probably did not wish to question him about the important business.

“No, of course not. How could I have had time to call anywhere?”

“No; but, I thought you might have met him at your club.”

“Oh! dear, no. Sir Alfred is sure to have too many engagements at this gay season. You know he is quite the fashion, and all the silly women in London are making up to him, and spoil the boy quite, they will. He will never be good for a country life after it all.”

“Oh! if he finds a good wife he may,” suggested Mrs. Mordaunt. “And I’m sure I hope he will, for he is so clever and handsome, and good too. I hope----”

“I heard of him at Crockford’s,” said Mr. Mordaunt, with increased gravity.

“Oh! dear, this is a misfortune!”

“Yes, of course it is; but what can one expect now-a-days, when gambling is actually made respectable? I mean when splendid rooms are built, and titled men are the first who openly frequent the confounded gambling tables.”

I listened with some interest to these remarks, because Aunt Jane had sometimes talked with them about this nephew, and she had praised his fine nature and brilliant qualities.

At last Mr. Mordaunt looked at me with a kind of compassionate interest, which he seemed to be angrily trying to conceal; for he never could bear to show his good or kind feelings.

“Well, miss, nothing can be worse. Graspem has seen the marriage certificate, and the register of baptism of the son of Henry Mordaunt Vivian, dated February 10, 18--. And the young man is expected in the next steamer--always lived in the backwoods, or some such outlandish place--had no education, I suppose. A pretty mess he’ll make here--bring a black woman, probably, and several negro children. Whatever will this old place, these fine rooms, be to all those savages, will you allow me to ask you?”

I then ventured to disclose my plan of going out as governess to him.

“Well done, my dear young lady!--and serve them all right, too. A fine, handsome young lady turned out of house and home--one of the oldest, I may say _the_ oldest family in the county, obliged to engage herself as governess! No, no; of course that is impossible, as long as my wife and I live; only mind, we can do nothing for you after we die. No, no, pray do not talk of the governess plan any more.”

I saw it would be useless then, but I did not give up my idea, and only hoped that perhaps Mrs. Chandos, when she heard of the misfortune which must banish the Mordaunts as well as myself from the Priory, would call again; and then I determined to see her and offer myself to her as governess.