Octavius and the Perfect Governess: Pryor Cousins #1 by Emily Larkin

Author:Emily Larkin [Larkin, Emily]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-9951366-6-3

Chapter Twenty-One

The men dined with them in the nursery and then they all played jackstraws. Pip probably ought to have read from the Bible given that it was a Sunday, but her father had allowed gentle entertainments on Sundays, and anyway, what was the harm in jackstraws and laughter? It did the girls good. It did them all good.

After the girls had gone to bed, Newingham stirred the jackstraws on the table. He was frowning. Not the frown of mock outrage that he’d worn when Fanny had beaten him yet again, but a real frown. “I wish . . .” he said.

Mr. Pryor leaned back in his chair. “What?”

The frown on Newingham’s face deepened, pulling his eyebrows together. He pursed his lips, then shook his head.

“Out with it, Bunny,” Lord Octavius said.

“I wish the girls didn’t live with Rumpole.”

There was a moment of silence, and then Mr. Pryor said, “He’s their father.”

“I know.” Newingham pushed aside the pile of jackstraws. “I know that. I just . . . He was vile to Amelia, and he’s going to be vile to the girls, too, and I just . . . wish they didn’t have to live with him.”

No one said He’s their father again, but Pip thought they were all thinking it. “Could you become their guardian?” she asked.

Newingham shook his head. “He wouldn’t let them visit me because I’m a bachelor. He’s sure as blazes not going to give me guardianship.” He rubbed his brow. “What about a boarding school? Do you know of any good ones, Miss Toogood?”

“I’ve heard of some schools,” she said, “but I can’t speak as to how good they are. It’s something that could certainly be looked into.”

“You think Rumpole would pay to send his daughters to a good school?” Lord Octavius asked. He began to gather up the scattered jackstraws. “He’d probably ship them off to one of those Yorkshire schools and call it good riddance.”

Pip had heard of Yorkshire schools. They were notoriously brutal. She repressed a shiver.

“I would pay for it,” Newingham said. “I’d pick the school and I’d pay for it and I’d call it a gift, and Rumpole wouldn’t have any say in the matter except to give permission, which he’d do . . . don’t you think?” He looked at Pip, a hopeful expression on his face. “An education for his daughters that he doesn’t have to pay for? He’d jump at it!” And then he said, more tentatively, “Don’t you agree, Miss Toogood?”

“I can’t imagine he’d refuse, unless he did so out of spite.” Which was something she could see the baron doing. “But it would need to be a school where the girls would thrive. They’ve very shy. They need kindness and encouragement. The wrong school would crush them.”

Too late, Pip realized that she should have phrased that as a suggestion. It had sounded as if she, a mere governess, was telling a viscount what to do.

But Newingham didn’t appear to mind. “Will you help me select the school?”

Pip nodded.

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