“Do you mean it, Miss Ellerby?” The smile that illuminated Phoebe’s face when she learned of Lord Steadwell’s decision was so bright it made Grace’s eyes sting a little. “I can go back to visiting Jem before bedtime?”
“That is what your father said.”
Ever since Phoebe had woken that morning, she’d been aquiver to find out about Grace’s conversation with her father. Grace thought a delay in satisfying the child’s curiosity might help her understand what a valuable opportunity she’d been granted.
“Thank you!” The girl threw her arms around Grace and squeezed so hard it threatened to crack her ribs. “I never thought you’d be able to persuade Papa.”
Grace gasped to recover the breath Phoebe’s violent embrace had driven from her lungs. “He did set some conditions and it is very important you abide by them. You must always take Bessie with you and you can only stay ten minutes to begin with. If you prove you can be trusted to behave responsibly, he may be willing to grant you more privileges.”
“I will!” Phoebe loosened her crushing grip. “I promise.”
Grace adjusted her cap, which the child had knocked askew in her excitement. “I suspect your father would also like you to apply yourself to your studies.”
His lordship had not mentioned any such thing, but surely it was worth making the most of Phoebe’s gratitude.
The child nodded eagerly. “That won’t be hard. You make studies more interesting than Mademoiselle ever did with all that tiresome needlework and music practice. I enjoy ciphering figures and learning about faraway places.”
“Mademoiselle did a fine job.” Charlotte muttered as she pulled on her gloves. “She taught us the sorts of accomplishments young ladies require, not all that arithmetic, history, and geography nonsense. Gentlemen do not admire dowdy bluestockings.”
She looked up long enough to flick a dismissive glance from her governess to her sister. “Nor hoydens.”
The child’s barb stung Grace, though not because of the suggestion that no gentleman would ever take an interest in her. She could imagine no greater blessing than to be ignored by every man she ever met. What troubled her was the claim that learning must be a detriment to women. Most of her former employers would have agreed with Charlotte. If Grace’s previous pupils had not included a few boys, her teaching skills might have seen little use.
“Surely there must be some gentlemen who prefer ladies capable of clever conversation as well as the more conventional accomplishments.” She tossed off the comment lightly as she looked the girls over to make certain they were properly dressed and groomed for church.
She did not want to be drawn into an argument with Charlotte, who seemed to enjoy contradicting her at every turn. Hard as she tried to focus on the child’s good qualities, which were numerous, Charlotte seemed resolved to dislike her. Worse yet, she was encouraging Sophie to follow her example.
“Mademoiselle didn’t think so.” Charlotte fussed over Sophie, fastening the buttons on her pelisse. “And she managed to get herself a good husband, so she must know.”
Though the girl’s tone made it sound as if she were not addressing anyone in particular, Grace felt the stab of her insinuation. Once upon a time, she had hoped that marriage might rescue her from the drudgery, indignity and insecurity of being a governess, the way the prince in Sophie’s story had rescued the servant heroine. To her dismay and heartbreak, she had learned that men attracted by her appearance did not have honorable intentions toward a young woman without fortune or connections.
The pain of those memories made it impossible for Grace to let Charlotte’s remark pass without rebuttal. “Your father seems to think otherwise. Besides our discussion about Phoebe, we also talked at some length about what manner of instruction I should give you girls. He feels you would benefit from a more rigorous curriculum and I reckon you are all clever enough to manage it.”
Invoking their adored father seemed to silence Charlotte on the subject. But her features settled into a scowl of such ferocity that Grace feared she might have won the battle only to lose the war.
“How did you get Papa to agree, Miss Ellerby?” asked Phoebe as Grace retied her hair ribbons. “He hardly ever changes his mind once he’s made it up.”
“Indeed?” Grace recalled something his lordship had said during their interview in Reading, about being stubborn. Was that why he had insisted on hiring her in spite of their mutual misgivings—because he had made up his mind and would not—or could not—change it? “I have found him to be a reasonable man who would do almost anything for the benefit of you and your sisters. I simply appealed to his reason and his affection for you.”
It sounded so easy put that way. Grace recalled it had taken considerable persuasion on her part to overcome considerable reluctance on his. She was not certain which surprised her more—Lord Steadwell’s willingness to reconsider his decision or her forceful insistence that he do so. She had never spoken out like that to any of her previous employers. Why had she risked it with him?
And what was it about her that had made him change his mind? Certainly she had not employed any feminine wiles, as she’d often seen women use on their husbands. Whatever the cause, Grace could not help feeling rather flattered that she’d accomplished a feat few others had attempted and fewer still succeeded.
“If we don’t get going soon, we shall be late for church.” Charlotte’s crisp pronouncement crashed upon Grace’s musing, prompting a guilty start.
It was she who should have been watching the time and hurrying the girls along, not the other way around. In future, she must take care not to let her thoughts wander like that.
“You are quite right, Charlotte.” She beckoned Phoebe and Sophie toward the door. “Come, girls. We do not want to keep your father waiting.”
If she hoped her concession would soften Charlotte’s aversion to her, she was mistaken. The girl grasped Sophie by the hand and flounced off, leaving Grace and Phoebe to follow.
“There you are.” Lord Steadwell tucked away his pocket watch when the four of them came trooping down the stairs. “I thought I might have to attend the service on my own.”
“I beg your pardon, sir.” Glancing at his lordship over the top of her spectacles, Grace could not help but notice how handsome he looked this morning in a well-cut blue coat that complimented his tall, spare figure and distinguished features. “I shall be more attentive to the time after this.”