A Governess of Great Talents
A Governess of Great Talents
The Governess Bureau, Book 1
Emily E K Murdoch
© Copyright 2021 by Emily E K Murdoch
Text by Emily E K Murdoch
Dragonblade Publishing, Inc. is an imprint of Kathryn Le Veque Novels, Inc.
P.O. Box 7968
La Verne CA 91750
ceo@dragonbladepublishing.com
Produced in the United States of America
First Edition May 2021
Kindle Edition
Reproduction of any kind except where it pertains to short quotes in relation to advertising or promotion is strictly prohibited.
All Rights Reserved.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
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Additional Dragonblade books by Author Emily E K Murdoch
The Governess Bureau Series
A Governess of Great Talents (Book 1)
Never The Bride Series
Always the Bridesmaid (Book 1)
Always the Chaperone (Book 2)
Always the Courtesan (Book 3)
Always the Best Friend (Book 4)
Always the Wallflower (Book 5)
Always the Bluestocking (Book 6)
Always the Rival (Book 7)
Always the Matchmaker (Book 8)
Always the Widow (Book 9)
Always the Rebel (Book 10)
Always the Mistress (Book 11)
Always the Second Choice (Book 12)
The Lyon’s Den Connected World
Always the Lyon Tamer
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Publisher’s Note
Additional Dragonblade books by Author Emily E K Murdoch
Welcome to the Governess Bureau
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Epilogue
About Emily E K Murdoch
Welcome to the Governess Bureau
You are most welcome, sir or madam.
When the nobility and gentility of England are at their wits end, they send a discrete note to Miss Vivienne Clarke’s Governess Bureau. Only accepting the very best clients, their governesses are coveted by minor royalty, with every governess following three rules:
1. You must have an impeccable record.
2. You must bring a special skill to the table.
3. You must never fall in love…
Chapter One
July 24, 1812
The waiting room of the Governess Bureau was designed, in the main, to intimidate those within it. Miss Vivienne Clarke, the proprietress and owner, was of course not a cruel woman, far from it. She liked children, as far as one could tell, and she ran her business like a ship, without mercy.
That was why Miss Meredith Hubert, seated on the very edge of her seat with her reticule grasped in her hands, tried not to jump at every sound. She had met the formidable woman only once when she had been ordered to her first posting, but the interview had been brief.
Now she had returned after just two years, and Meredith knew without the reference she had been provided, there would be no second assignment. Miss Clarke had exacting standards, and only the very best governesses were given a second chance.
Not that she needed one. The Earl of Marnmouth had been pleased with her work, very pleased. Both Egerton children had learned well. There had been no complaints—none that had reached Meredith’s ear, anyway—yet here she was.
Positionless. A dangerous thing for a woman of no means and few connections.
If only the earl had not decided to move to the Continent, but she had not begrudged him the decision. The Egerton children were grown now, and they had no need of a governess.
No need of her.
Meredith swallowed and looked around the waiting room. She was not the only governess with an appointment with Miss Clarke; that was clear.
All appeared respectable, likely as not the daughters of gentlemen. It was a wonder, really, that Meredith had managed to secure a position in the Governess Bureau at all. If they had guessed…well, she would not be welcomed to sit in this stifling room, that was for sure.
The governess opposite her looked over her book, took in Meredith’s slightly creased gown, and raised her eyebrow. Without saying a word, her gaze dropped back to the volume in her hand.
Meredith rolled her eyes and then immediately chastised herself. Rudeness in a governess was absolutely insupportable!
Perhaps she should have brought a book herself. Everyone knew how much Miss Clarke valued reading. It was one of the safest things to do in her waiting room, while one anticipated her fate being decided.
Read a book. Show Miss Clarke how attentive you are to one’s own education.
For those governesses waiting for their next posting, hoping it would be a good one, it was easy to bring a book, any old book.
Meredith hid a smile. She had never been one for attempting to impress, and she could tell by the glazed look of most in the waiting room that they were finding no joy whatsoever in…what did they have there?
Epistles on Women, Travels of Mirza Abu Taleb Khan in Asia, Wordsworth’s Guide to the Lakes…
Meredith forced down the smile sparked by the ridiculousness of it all. How far would one go to secure a good position?
There was even one reading the latest edition of The Times. Meredith could just make out the headline, though part of it was obscured by a finger.
> TERRIFYING GLASSHAND GANG STRIKES AGAIN!
“Yes, the Duke of Axwick,” one of the governesses was saying in a mock whisper at the other end of the waiting room to one of her companions. It could not be more evident she wished them all to hear. “He is pleased with me, very pleased. I merely sought an appointment with Miss Clarke to inform her of my progress.”
Meredith watched the flicker of eyes across the room. No one wished to give the speaker the compliment of real attention, naturally, but no one could deny their intrigue.
“Ah, we are similar, then,” said another with a smirk. “I have just been released from the employ of the Duke of Mercia, your master’s brother-in-law.”
It could not be more evident that she wished to impress in turn, but there was a look of triumphant pity on the first speaker’s face.
“Dear me,” she said scornfully. “Released from his employ, were you? Not so similar, if you do not mind me saying so.”
A trickle of fear ran down the back of Meredith’s neck. And this was why she had not attempted to pay her way through life as a seamstress or maidservant. The backbiting, the catcalling, the determination to make out one’s successes were another person’s failures.
The sooner she could be back in another house, the better…
Further conversation in the waiting room was stifled as Miss Clarke’s door opened. All the ladies stiffened, their backs as straight as rods as silence fell.
There she stood: Miss Clarke. Like a queen of her own realm, she looked out with cold eyes across the room and then spoke in icy tones.
“Miss Meredith Hubert.”
Meredith swallowed. Rising to her feet, she curtseyed low, and then stepped forward. Miss Clarke had already turned and entered her room.
It had been over two years since she had been in Miss Clarke’s office, and that had only been a fleeting visit. The interview process to be admitted into the Governess Bureau did not happen here; Miss Clarke would not allow it. Only fully vetted governesses were permitted to step over the threshold, and even then, they must enter by the side door. The front door was for customers.
So it was with interest that Meredith stepped into the office and looked around. The room was beautiful. Set out quite like a gentleman’s study, with a writing desk in one corner and a businesslike desk of mahogany near the window, sunlight streamed through and glinted off the gold lettering on the ledger books beside Miss Clarke’s chair.
Everywhere she looked, there was splendor. A globe sat in one corner, a series of gold gilt-framed paintings, mostly landscapes, adorned the walls. There were books of all kinds in the bookcases—languages, sciences, histories, even a few Radcliffes from what Meredith could see.
On one side of the desk was a large leather-bound armchair, luxurious with brass studs. This was where Miss Clarke had settled herself, looking up shrewdly at Meredith. On the other side of the desk was a narrow wooden chair, with no cushion nor adornments.
By this chair, Meredith stood. She knew better than to merely assume she could be seated.
This was Miss Clarke’s office. It was difficult not to be impressed. She was not old, probably just a little over forty, from what Meredith could guess, and in that time, she had built an empire.
The Governess Bureau.
Desired by the best in society, every duke, earl, and minor prince in Europe wished to secure a governess from the Bureau for their children. Great expectations were required from those governesses who were able to secure assignments from this very room.
Meredith found her heart beating rather quickly. No governess was guaranteed another posting once one had ended. Miss Clarke was the decider of their fate and could just as easily send them to the wilds of Scotland to a laird as send them packing with no way to pay their bills.
“Sit down, Miss Hubert.”
Meredith obeyed, the hardwood discomforting and forcing her to sit slightly forward. It gave one the sensation of returning to school. There was a commanding tone in Miss Clarke’s voice that every governess strove to imitate. It gave the sense of absolute power, and in this room, that was warranted.
Meredith found it difficult to meet Miss Clarke’s eye as she examined her from across the desk. The silence between them continued uncomfortably.
Meredith’s fingers tightened around her reticule, the soft velvet smooth against her gloves. Dare she break the silence first—or was she supposed to wait until Miss Clarke spoke?
“Miss Hubert,” said Miss Clarke coldly. “You have finished your employment at the Earl of Marnmouth’s. His decision, I take it.”
In anyone else’s mouth, the last sentence would have been a question, but it was so evidently a statement, Meredith did not even bother to attempt a response.
Besides, her heart was too busy sinking. Her first assignment and she had clearly failed in the eyes of Miss Clarke. Never mind that the two Egertons were absolute rascals who had needed a firmer hand than Meredith had ever expected.
Curls of panic started to tug at her heart. What was she going to do? Being a governess was the only respectable way she could conceive of supporting herself—she had no other skills.
Except those, her mind whispered, that dark, cruel side of her attempting to surface. You could always go back to—
No. She would never return to that way of life.
“I have here a report from the earl himself, in his own hand,” said Miss Clarke, evidently impressed. She picked up a letter from the sheaf on her desk and unfolded it slowly.
Each second was torture to Meredith. A report? Surely, she had her reference, even now kept carefully in her reticule, her one piece of proof that she had served faithfully.
A report? What could the earl not have said to her directly? Would his true opinion of her now be revealed?
“My dear Miss Clarke, I write to inform you that I will no longer be needing the services of your governess, Miss Hubert,” said Miss Clarke quietly, reading from the report.
Meredith swallowed. All she had to do was stay calm.
“I admit I had low expectations when Miss Hubert arrived, so young as she was,” Miss Clarke continued, pausing to raise her gaze over the paper to examine Meredith, who flushed, before reading on. “Yet I have been impressed. She understands children more than I could ever claim and has taken great pains with my youngest. I have seen dramatic improvement.”
Heat seared across Meredith’s cheeks, though mainly from relief rather than any attempt to be coy.
Thank the Lord. The earl had always been a good man, fair and straight with her, but one never knew with these titled types. They seemed just as likely to cut one down with a smile as praise with a frown.
But the earl had written to Miss Clarke with much the same as he had written on her reference.
“—otherwise I would never be dispensing with her services,” Miss Clarke read on. “We’ll skip over a part of it… Please inform Miss Hubert that if I am ever in need of a governess again, then I will be writing to you to secure her. I remain, yours, etc.”
The proprietress of the Governess Bureau placed the report back on her desk and examined Meredith with a sharp eye.
“How kind of the earl to share his opinions so freely,” Meredith said boldly, feeling as though it was high time she contributed to the conversation.
“Indeed,” said Miss Clarke.
Meredith was not entirely sure whether to attempt to speak again and decided against it. Miss Clarke hardly encouraged conversation, and besides, what more could she add? It was a relief to know one’s master had not been sycophantic to one’s face yet cruel in letters back to one’s employer.
“This part of his lordship’s report impressed me,” said Miss Clarke suddenly, eyes glancing down to the paper. “Here it is—I recall in particular Miss Hubert’s excellent handling of a ruffian boy on the estate, a tale which one day I will tell in full.”
Meredith smiled. What a tale it was, though she would rather not be the one to tell it. When the Earl of
Marnmouth himself struggled to keep track of his illegitimate children…
“How fascinating,” Miss Clarke said curtly, raising an eyebrow. “From where did you gain such a great talent with ruffians?”
A flush covered Meredith’s cheeks, and her gaze dropped from Miss Clarke’s penetrating stare to her hands in her lap.
The accreditation process for joining the Governess Bureau was challenging, long, and focused entirely on the skills, experience, and wit of the woman applying to join Miss Clarke’s ranks of governesses.
It was one of the reasons Meredith had chosen it. One’s family, one’s background simply did not matter. Miss Clarke had no interest, save that one was a lady, and she believed it possible to tell on sight when one was not.
Miss Clarke was not perfect. Meredith sat in uncomfortable silence, wondering precisely how to answer her question. But she had worked hard to keep her history a secret, and she was not about to fall at this hurdle.
“A good governess,” she said in a clear, unwavering voice, “does not become intimidated by her charges, nor by anyone else.”
Miss Clarke examined her closely without saying a word and then finally nodded in the approval Meredith had been desperate not to lose.
“I find myself needing to echo his lordship,” she said quietly. “I, too, have been impressed by your care of the Egerton children. I had sent another governess to the earl before you, and I do not think I mentioned when I gave you this appointment. She was…lacking, I suppose one would say, in great talents.”
Meredith ventured a smile. “I was honored to serve his lordship and her ladyship and their children.”
“And now they are grown,” Miss Clarke said. “Grown, and off to the Continent I understand, to refine their manners before they enter society.”
“I will be intrigued to see how society responds to them,” said Meredith, her tongue unguarded.
Miss Clarke’s eyes widened. “Indeed.”
Meredith swallowed. She always had a rather discomforting talent of speaking her mind, which was most unhelpful in her line of employment. Though she had trained herself, in the main, to filter out her most wild ideas, there were always a few that slipped through.