Julie Klassen - The Silent Governess

The Silent
Governess

JULIE KLASSEN

The Silent Governess
Copyright 2009
Julie Klassen

Cover design by Jennifer Parker
Cover photography by Mike Habermann Photography, LLC

Unless otherwise indicated, Scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any meanselectronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwisewithout the prior written permission of the publisher. The only exception is brief quotations in printed reviews.

Published by Bethany House Publishers
11400 Hampshire Avenue South
Bloomington, Minnesota 55438

Bethany House Publishers is a division of
Baker Publishing Group, Grand Rapids, Michigan.

Printed in the United States of America

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Klassen, Julie.

2009035948

To Carlisa,
treasured friend & first reader

Contents

The virtue of silence is highly commendable,
and will contribute greatly to your ease and prosperity.
The best proof of wisdom is to talk little, but to hear much....

S AMUEL & S ARAH A DAMS , T HE C OMPLETE S ERVANT , 1825

Remember Who it is that has placed you in your present position;
perhaps you have no home,
perhaps you have experienced a reverse of fortune; no matter what!
It is God who has willed it so,
therefore look to Him for guidance and protection.

H INTS TO G OVERNESSES , B Y O NE OF T HEMSELVES , 1856

F or years, I could not recall the day without a smoldering coal of remorse burning within me. I tried to bury the memory deep in the dark places of my mind, but now and again something would evoke ita public house placard, a column of figures, a finely dressed gentlemanand I would wince as the memory appeared and then scuttled away, like a silverfish under the door....

The day began wonderfully well. My mother, father, and I, then twelve, rode into Chedworth together and spent a rare afternoon as a harmonious family. We viewed many fine prospects and toured the Roman ruins, where my mother met by chance an old friend. I thought it a lovely outing and remember feeling as happy as I had ever beenfor my mother and father seemed happy together as well.

The mood during the journey home was strained, but I chalked it up to fatigue and soon fell asleep in the gig, my head lolling against my mothers shoulder.

When we arrived home, I remained in such buoyant spirits that when my father dully proclaimed himself off to the Crown and Crow, I offered to go along, although I had not done so in many months.

He muttered, Suit yourself, and turned without another word. I could not account for his sudden change of mood, but then, when had I ever?

I had been going with him to the Crown and Crow since I was a child of three or four. He would set me upon its high counter, and there I would count to a thousand or more. When one has mastered one hundred, are not two, five, and nine so much childs play? By the age of six, I was ciphering sums to the amusement and amazement of other patrons. Papa would present two or three figures and there before me, as if on a glass slate, I would see the totals of their columns.

What is forty-seven and fifty-five, Olivia?

Instantly the numbers and their sum would appear. One zero two, Papa.

One hundred two. That is right. Thats my clever girl.

As I grew older, the equations grew more difficult, and I began to wonder if the weary travelers and foxed old men would even know if I had ciphered correctly. But my father did, I was certain, for he was nearly as quick with numbers as I.

He also took me with him to the race clubseven once to the Bibury Racecoursewhere he placed wagers entrusted to him by men from Lower Coberly all the way to Foxcote. Beside him, with his black book in my small hands, I noted the odds, the wins and losses, mentally subtracting my fathers share before inscribing the payouts. I found myself caught up in the excitement of the race, the smells of meat pasties and spiced cider, the crowds, the shouts of triumph or defeat, and the longed-for father-daughter bond.

Mother had always disliked my going with Papa to the races and public house, yet I was loath to refuse him altogether, for I was hungry for his approval. When I began attending Miss Cresswells School for Girls, however, I went less often.

In the Crown and Crow that day, being twelve years of age, I was too old to perch upon the high counter. Instead I sat beside my father in the inglenook before the great hearth and drank my ginger beer while he downed ale after ale. The regulars seemed to sense his foul temper and did not disturb us.

Then they came ina well-dressed gentleman and his son, wearing the blue coat and banded straw hat of a schoolboy. The man was obviously a gentleman of quality, perhaps even a nobleman, and we all sat up the straighter in defense of our humble establishment.

The boy, within a year or two of my own age, glanced at me. Of course we would notice one another, being the only young people in the room. His look communicated disinterest and contempt, or at least that was how I ciphered his expression.

The gentleman greeted the patrons in gregarious tones and announced that they had just visited a lord somebody or other, and were now traveling back toward London to return his son to Harrows hallowed halls.

My father, cheeks flushed and eyes suddenly bright, turned to regard the boastful gentleman. A Harrow lad, ey?

Just so, the gentleman answered. Like his old man before him.

A fine, clever lad, is he? Papa asked.

A flicker of hesitation crossed the gentlemans face. Of course he is.

Not one to be outwitted by a village girl like this, then? Papa dipped his head toward me, and my heart began to pound. A sickening dread filled my stomach.

The gentleman flicked a look at me. I should say not.

Father grinned. Care to place a friendly wager on it?

This was nothing new. Over the years, many of the regulars had made small wagers on my ability to solve difficult equations. And even fellows who lost would applaud and buy Papa ale and me ginger beer.

The gentlemans mouth twisted. A wager on what?

That the girl can best your boy in arithmetic? They do teach arithmetic at Harrow, I trust?

Of course they do, man. It is the best school in the country. In the world.

No doubt you are right. Still, the girl here is clever. Is she not, folks? Papa turned to the regulars around the room for support. Attends Miss Cresswells School for Girls.

Miss Cresswells? The gentlemans sarcasm sent shivers down my spine. My, my, Herbert, we had better declare defeat before we begin.

My father somehow retained control of his temper. Even feigned a shrug of nonchalance. Might make for a diverting contest.

The gentleman eyed him, glass midway to his lips. What do you propose?

Nothing out of the ordinary. Sums, divisions, multiplications. First correct answer wins. Best of three?

That was when I saw itthe boys look of studied indifference, of confidence, fell utterly away. In its place pulsed pale, sickly fear.

The gentleman glanced at his son, then finished his drink. I dont find such sport amusing, my good man. Besides, we must be on our way. Long journey ahead. He placed his glass and a gold guinea on the counter.