Her cheeks burned more furiously, and she was relieved he kept his gaze on his daughter.
“Not on principle, no. But before I moved to a private room, I slept with five others.”
He looked up. “Five? Surely not as bad as all that?”
She smiled, “Two other women and three unborn children.”
“Ah ... crowded indeed.” He returned her smile before again lowering his gaze. “At least here you have your own bed. Except when my daughter shares it with you. She has no idea how fortunate she is... .” He looked up, startled at his own words. “I mean, to have you care for her so... .”
She could not meet his eyes, nor stop the slight lift of her lips. “I know what you meant,” she whispered.
Walking with Anne through nearby Russell Square on a fine autumn afternoon, Charlotte almost collided with a young boy running past, pulling a Chinese-dragon kite behind him. “Regardez-moi! Regardez-moi!” the boy yelled in perfect French accent.
“Très bien, Jonathan.”
Charlotte glanced over and saw an elegantly dressed young woman sitting on a park bench, her gaze fixed on the running boy.
Two finely dressed ladies walking together approached from the other direction. They, too, seemed to be watching the elegant young lady and her charge.
“I have contracted with an agency in Piccadilly to arrange for a French governess for Henry.”
“I know you will be pleased. I would never go back to an English governess. They are so dour, and usually not as well educated as the French girls who come over.”
Charlotte looked more closely at the elegant young woman. She had dark hair in a fashionable coil, and her dress seemed as fine as those the English ladies wore. As Charlotte passed by she looked at the woman’s face more closely. She was reminded of Lizette Taylor.
The next morning, as Charlotte sat at the kitchen table enjoying a cup of coffee and the quiet of a morning in which she had arisen before Anne, Marie dropped a section of newspaper before her.
“Voilà,” the woman said, the paper slapping the tabletop. She had already turned back to the blood sausage and tomatoes she was frying before Charlotte could respond.
She looked at the paper. Folded in quarters as it was, she could not miss the bold print Marie wanted her to see.
French Governesses. Highest education.
Excellent references. Qualified to teach
literature, music, French, and etiquette.
Paris Agency, 212 George-court, Piccadilly
Charlotte knocked on Dr. Taylor’s study door.
“Enter.”
As she pushed the door open, he looked up from the thick book he was reading. “Hello, Miss Lamb.”
“Have you a moment?”
“Of course.” He closed his book, and as he did, she noticed it was a Bible.
Inclining her chin toward the volume, she asked, “Old Testament or New?”
He grinned. “Old. Someone once told me I should read it more often.”
She smiled and then bit her lip, remembering her mission. “Dr.
Taylor. It has come to my attention that many English families are hiring French governesses to care for their children.”
He looked at her blankly.
