Very good.
“Are you going to allow me to make an absolute muck of things without speaking up?” asked Silas.
Miss Delmonte’s brows twitched upwards in the briefest of movements before she replied. “You are their father and master here, sir. You may do as you please.”
Silas narrowed his eyes and studied her. Miss Delmonte sat there, straight-backed and calm, giving no sign that his study of her made her the slightest bit uneasy. If anything, she looked peeved. Picking through his observations of her, Silas tried to understand why she was not speaking up. The lady had done so before a time or two, yet now—
And Silas sent a scowl inward. “You’ve warned me before, and I paid you no heed.”
Drumming his fingers against the arm of the chair, Silas studied the fire for a moment, gathering his thoughts.
“I need a frank discussion, Miss Delmonte. I ought to have taken your quiet warnings seriously, but such softly spoken guidance can get lost among everything else vying for my attention. I thank you for your efforts to aid me in the past, but I fear I need more direct counsel.”
When that was met by silence, Silas turned his gaze to hers and found a small crack in her calm facade. It was tiny and hardly visible, but through it, Silas sensed her surprise, even if the tension in her shoulders made it clear she did not trust him. Silas felt like growling.
“I understand it is an odd request from the master of the house, but I fear too much requires my attention, and I have not the patience to deal with that and decipher the quiet little hints you give about how I ought to handle my children. I need you to be forthright with your opinions.”
But there was no bending of her will. Curiosity colored the edges of her expression, but Silas read far too much caution in her posture for him to think he would win her trust easily. And he understood that hesitancy well. Perhaps other men might not, but Silas had spent too many years dealing with the delicate and sometimes brutal dance that came with handling a superior officer. Or employer, in this instance.
“I assure you that even if I do not care for your opinion, I will not hold it against you,” he said. “But I wish to know my children and am at a loss. You have earned their trust, and I would be a fool not to look to you for guidance on how I might capture their affection.”
Miss Delmonte nodded, though there was little conviction in the movement. It was that vague, accommodating gesture one gave to appease those above you without fully committing to anything.
“Please, Miss Delmonte.” Though Silas felt ready to prostrate himself before her, he refused to allow any of the desperation to color his tone. Whining and pleading like a child begging to extend his bedtime was hardly a good start to their professional relationship. Yet, Silas didn’t know what else he could do.
True, he was making some progress with Griffith and Leah, but Helen was as stubborn as her mama, and instinct warned he would not win her heart without aid of some sort. And Silas was determined to do so. Yearned for it. If Hatch were here, he’d remind Silas that negotiating from such an eager position was foolhardy, and the fellow would be correct. But Silas didn’t care. These were his children, and he had lost too much time with them already.
Yet how could he expect to gain Miss Delmonte’s trust without extending the courtesy himself? No doubt his father would laugh at such an approach with a servant, but Silas’s circumstances were not normal, and he was not his father.
“Miss Delmonte, I fear I may never gain my children’s affections. Griffith and Leah are young enough that they shall come around easier, but if the past sennight is any indication, Helen despises me, and I do not know if that shall ever change.” Tapping his fingers on the arm of the chair once more, Silas considered just what to tell her, but no doubt, she was already privy to far more than he knew.
“My wife and I did not share a loving marriage.” Silas paused and considered that. “Ours was based on duty and necessity, and though we made a go of it, I fear our dispositions were far too dissimilar for us to ever be at peace with each other. We both were grateful that my profession took me away from home for months and years at a time, for the little time I spent onshore was often filled with contention.”
If the dead truly watch over those left behind, no doubt Deborah was raging against him sharing so much, but neither his nor her pride were worth indulging at present.
*
The Byrnes family was Judith’s fifth employer. All in all, she considered herself blessed as the vast majority had treated her fairly. Or as fairly as any governess could expect. And each family was unique in their mannerisms and expectations. The first weeks of a post were spent in learning those nuances that belonged to the household, and while Judith was familiar with the Byrnes’s children, the return of the master of the house constituted a whole new household in many ways.
Yet, there were universal truths that existed from family to family. Judith had learned them well over the years, and chief among them was that no matter how much she integrated into the family’s life or how influential she was among the children, Judith was a servant. The parents may compliment or even bestow brief words of gratitude for her work, but the governess was not now nor ever a proper member of the household. She was not privy to private discussions nor treated as a confidant.
Clearly, Mr. Byrnes was not aware of the distinction, for he spoke quite frankly about things no governess ought to be told. Of course, servants always knew the goings-on of the family, but that was a vast deal different from being told the unvarnished truth by the master himself.
“Mrs. Byrnes was not someone who could hide her dislike of someone,” said Mr. Byrnes. “I fear her feelings—combined with my long absences—have colored the children’s opinion of me, and added to that is my general ignorance when it comes to children. I am quite at a loss, Miss Delmonte. The truth of the matter is that you know them far better than I, and I am at my wit’s end. I need your assistance if I have any hope of securing their affection.”
The gentleman spoke with such sincerity that Judith did not doubt his words nor his intentions. Anyone who spent a quarter of an hour in his company knew how much he cared for his children. But to speak out would go against the second universal truth: masters and mistresses did not desire frankness from their servants.
Honesty may be a virtue for the rest of humanity, but in a governess, it was grounds for dismissal. Parents did not wish to hear the truth about their offspring. Their children were all well-behaved, intelligent, and talented pinnacles of perfection that were bound to outshine all the others of their class. And above all, employers did not want critiques regarding their abilities as a parent. Or lack thereof.
A governess’s place was to educate the children in the manner approved of by their parents. A governess was to be demure and deferential. And above all else, a governess kept her own counsel. Luckily, Judith had a lifetime of experience with such things, even if it felt as though her tongue might bleed with the force of her biting it.
“It is admirable that you wish to earn their admiration. Too many fathers demand it. It is a wise man who knows that affection freely given is truer and more constant than that which is compelled,” she said, hoping a compliment may just be the thing to divert his attention away from her.
Mr. Byrnes studied her for a moment, and Judith endured it with the same placid acceptance she’d learned from an early age. Even if it rankled the tiniest bit.
“And it is a wise woman who can divert attention away from that which she doesn’t wish to say with a few pretty words,” he replied with a hint of a smile.
Judith held in a sigh and hoped for some divine inspiration to guide her through the coming interview. “I do not know what you mean, sir. I only spoke the truth. You’ve done your best to heal the breach between you and your children.”
