The House of Broken Hearts by Judy Colella (best ebook reader for ubuntu .TXT) 📖

By that first Friday afternoon, the Lanford males had decided to a man – and boy – that Miss Giselle Moreaux was not only a godsend, but was possibly the most lovely, talented, amusing, clever, tender-hearted, wise, intellectual and generally perfect female any of them had ever encountered, with the exception, of course, of the dear, departed Mrs. Lanford. Their reasons for thinking of her this way were as varied as their own natures, not surprisingly.

As for Jocelyn, her adoration for her new governess was based almost entirely on emotion; by dint of some sort of magic, this young woman had made her feel important, very grown-up, and both loved and understood, all at the same time. She had already discovered that Miss Moreaux was not above playing dolls or sharing tea with stuffed animals, and thus had also proven herself to be a great friend.

Winston was highly elated that his new governess held no scorn whatsoever for his gentler nature (he doubted he could ever bring himself to hunt down and kill living creatures the way his father, uncle, and brothers did). In fact, this remarkable lady even encouraged his desire to learn more about the beauty of language, telling him he was also completely right to want to dedicate time to the study of art. Politics, she told him, were a different kind of art form, but because men needed a good knowledge of that subject, too, since they were the ones running things, she would try and make it as enjoyable a topic as she could. He really liked that she had used the word “men,” not qualifying the term by saying something condescending like, “and little boys, too.”

Alaric, for his part, had immediately decided that if it came down to it, he’d stop eating sweets and join his brother in the harder athletic pursuits in order to make himself more appealing. It never occurred to him that the age difference between him and Miss Moreaux might be more of an obstacle than his weight to his becoming a suitor.

Granville, of course, was fully confident that none of his brothers could possibly compete with him for Giselle’s attention (he had already begun working on the speech in which he’d ask her if he might call her by her first name).

Julian, well, Julian was a flirt, a bit of a rogue where women were concerned, and extraordinarily confident in his ability to capture the heart of any female he wanted – and if the glint in his eye whenever he saw Giselle was any indication, he wanted her very badly.

Giles, on the other hand, was a true gentleman in every sense of the word. He believed in honor, integrity, and his obligation to treat the weaker sex with great respect and kindness. This belief was extended to all women, but especially to those who, like Giselle Moreaux, had obviously been raised well in a good family, and whose sensibilities were in many ways akin to his own. But he was a widower of only several months, and to allow himself to feel anything toward this charming girl so soon would be, to say the very least, inappropriate. So he contented himself with being available to help whenever necessary, making certain she was always comfortable and treated properly, and in no way regarding her as one of the servants. No, her job of teaching his children and keeping the little hellions in line was a most important one, and already she seemed more than capable of carrying out her duties in a manner that was almost… motherly. Ah, but that was a thought he’d have to shake off, and quickly!

The most miraculous and unexpected result of Giselle’s presence in Grey House was the change in Mrs. Trellain’s demeanor. She seemed genuinely fond of the girl, and her disposition gradually became almost sunny. By the end of the first month, she was, in fact, as devoted to this young lady as she’d ever been to her employer and his family. Quite remarkable, really.

When the soft pastels of spring gave way to the richer, deeper greens of summer, Mrs. Trellain announced one evening that Giselle should accompany her into town on the coming Saturday to purchase material for some new clothes to suit the season. Giselle had been offered a maid of her own to help with various personal things, like preparing her bath, brushing her hair, dressing and such, but she had declined, feeling almost embarrassed that as an employee she should be offered such comforts. Mrs. Trellain, on the other hand, was having none of that, and made herself available instead to take care of the girl. Somewhat intimidated but missing Belinda and thus most appreciative of the woman’s kindness, Giselle hadn’t the fortitude to refuse, and one of the extremely enjoyable outcomes of this was evening tea.

After the meal when the men would go off and do whatever it was they did in the drawing room, the children would be seen to their rooms. Both of the older boys would have been horrified by an offer to be tucked in, something Gisellel sensed immediately, but neither Winston nor Jocelyn had a single objection to bedtime stories and getting kissed goodnight by their governess. Once these duties were happily executed, Giselle would return to her room, where she would soon be joined by Mrs. Trellain carrying a large tray of tea things and some lovely little savories not too heavy to be consumed before bed.

So it was during one of these highly pleasant, peaceful times together that Mrs. Trellain made her announcement, looking very pleased with herself and clearly expecting Giselle to be delighted with the idea. Nor was she disappointed. For while the girl owned a few summer frocks, she had wisely left the bulk of her wardrobe behind. The prospect of fresh, new outfits was therefore cause for brilliant smiles and exclamations of sincerest gratitude.

“Based on your coloring, I would say the new turquois shades would be most complimentary.” Mrs. Trellain picked up her cup and took a sip, certain in her assessment.

“I’m afraid I’ve been so occupied here that I haven’t even seen what’s currently in fashion. Thank goodness I have you!”

“Oh, now, don’t fuss.” The woman frowned, but it was patently clear she was pleased as could be by the girl’s response. “I’m just glad I can help, is all. More tea?”

The arrangement agreed upon between Giselle and Mr. Lanford was that in return for her services as governess, she would be housed and fed, and at the end of each year receive a stipend to be put away against the day Jocelyn would finally be too old to need a governess, and Giselle would once again be on her own. Nothing had been said about a clothing allowance, but now she discovered that this, too, had been provided for, and was quite pleased. Never having been spoiled, despite being an only child, her needs and desires were simple and few; she told Mrs. Trellain this small fact, and for some reason, it elicited a look that Giselle could only have described as relief.

The journey into town turned out to be wonderful. They strolled casually through the various small shops, discovering both to have similar tastes in everything from jewelry to household accessories. They stopped for lunch before getting to the more serious part of their shopping, sitting outside at a linen-covered café table to enjoy the fresh spring air and sunshine while they ate.

At the fabric shop, Mrs. Trellain had the shopkeeper bring out bolts of the most popular cloth, many of which were in shades of turquois – just as the older woman had predicted – some accented with shimmering gold thread, some with a light green pattern added, and all in every kind of material imaginable. Shiny satins, muted silks, delicate tissue, soft cottons, and sturdy muslins all vied for attention, each suggesting a different use.

No parties had been held since Mrs. Lanford’s untimely death, of course, but Mrs. Trellain had overheard some things that made her believe this would soon change. She therefore suggested that Giselle indulge in at least one formal dress, and having convinced the girl, both finally agreed on a turquois and gold tissue with matching voile for the lining, then picked out a pale green, light cotton for daily wear, a fawn muslin with tiny pale blue flowers for the evening, saffron for an underskirt to be worn with an overdress of chocolate brown moire for trips to visit family friends, and one length each of a magnificent, almost weightless burgundy silk, and a pure white, sheer cotton for a two-toned shift to wear outside on hot afternoons. The children loved croquet, Giselle was told, and thoroughly enjoyed playing that and other such games on the well-tended lawns surrounding the house.

Next, they took their purchases to the dressmaker, who brought out a book of patterns. Giselle’s tall, slender form was perfect for all the latest fashions, she said, and it took little persuasion to convince the girl to leave the pattern choices to this very efficient-sounding woman with straight-pins stuck in her waistband and a tape measure around her shoulders like a thin shawl. Apparently, Mrs. Trellain trusted her completely, so they left the material there and went off to speak with the shoemaker.

After this, a few minor but very necessary accessories were purchased, and by the time they reached Grey House in the early evening, both women were exhausted but quite content. Thanking Mrs. Trellain profusely for all her help and delightful company, Giselle went to her room for a brief nap, asking one of the upstairs maids on the way if she would be kind enough to wake her in an hour. Upon being roused by the girl’s polite tapping, Giselle called a pleasant thank-you, washed her hands and face to wake herself more fully, and changed into a plain white shift edged with delicate lace over which she pulled a short, ice-green shawl of lightly woven cotton. Slipping her feet into a pair of comfortable grey satin pumps, she went out, making her way to the library downtairs.

With the children and their father out for the day, she thought she might take the opportunity to do some research on the history of the nation’s politics; she had promised Winston to make this an interesting subject, but realized she’d need to understand more about it herself before trying to make it comprehensible to someone who plainly didn’t wish to study it at all. The library was a huge place, all four walls covered by shelving, a ladder on rollers against them to facilitate gaining access to the upper shelves.

Fortunately, the books themselves were very well organized, and it took her very little time to locate a section on her chosen subject. She began pulling books down, holding them to her chest until there were too many, at which point she grasped the precarious stack in both arms, intending to take them to one of the tables by the arched windows. Suddenly, the top two volumes began to slip and would have fallen to the floor, but someone caught them both. Giselle, halted in her progress by the person who was of necessity blocking her path as he grabbed the tumbling stack, gasped and looked up.

Standing very, very close, his mouth twisted in a self-satisfied grin, eyes twinking, was Julian.