Fitz bit down the urge to answer back that it was none of Camilla’s business; she didn’t want to upset her father any more. It wasn’t that she disliked Camilla, it was just that the two of them had never really hit it off. Cook said it was because Fitz wasso like her mother, Annabelle, the first Mrs Fitz-Herbert. Not only in looks but in temperament, too.
‘Yes, I’ve spoken to Geraldine and explained to her in no uncertain terms how none of her behaviour reported to us by Miss Stevens is acceptable,’ said Edward.
Fitz knew her father was pacifying his wife at this point and she couldn’t help feeling guilty for putting him in this position. She smiled at Camilla. ‘And I’ve apologised and promised Pa in future, I’ll consider my actions before doing anything.’
Camilla raised an eyebrow, clearly not believing Fitz, then offered a tight smile. ‘Very good. That is all we ask,’ she said. ‘Besides, I don’t want Michael thinking that’s how a person should behave. You do need to set a good example.’
‘Yes. I agree,’ said Fitz. ‘Michael should have the right influences.’ Fitz knew she was treading a fine line between insubordination and compliance, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to bow down and conform.
Camilla went to reply, but Edward beat her to it. ‘Right, well, that’s that sorted,’ he said briskly, clapping his hands together and getting to his feet.
Fitz didn’t miss her cue. ‘Thank you, Pa. I’ll write that letter now.’
‘Oh, there was one thing,’ said Camilla. ‘I’ve invited the Montagues over for dinner on Saturday. They’re bringing their son, William, and I’d like you to be there please, Geraldine.’
Fitz’s automatic reaction was to roll her eyes, but she caught a look from her father and managed to stop herself. She owed him after he’d just covered for her. She withheld the sigh that was threatening and turned to Camilla. ‘Of course.’
William Montague was the son of the vicar and Camilla liked nothing more than to try to matchmake Fitz and William up. What was it with everyone trying to marry her off? Or was it theysimply wanted to get rid of her, thinking marriage would quell her troublesome ways?
‘And Geraldine,’ called her father as she was about to leave the room. ‘I expect to see you there. No excuses.’
‘Yes, Pa.’
She left the room, closing the door behind her before then poking her tongue out and scowling at it. A stifled giggle behind her, had Fitz spinning around. It was Annie.
Annie looked down and went to scurry past. ‘Sorry, Miss Geraldine.’
‘Oh, Annie, it’s all right,’ said Fitz. ‘Good job it was only you. I’ve got to attend a wretched dinner on Saturday evening and waste several hours being polite to William Montague.’
‘I hear William Montague is quite a catch,’ said Annie.
‘For some, maybe,’ said Fitz. ‘But really he’s a dreadful bore and will send me to sleep talking about the latest addition to his stamp collection.’
‘There might be more to him than that,’ said Annie.
‘I doubt it. I’m sure my stepmother thinks he’s suitable husband material.’
‘He is rather handsome.’ A small blush crept up Annie’s neck to her face.
‘You know, I wish we could swap places,’ said Fitz. ‘Then I could go to the pub with Johnny Fisher and have a much more agreeable evening.’ Fitz sighed. ‘Alas, I don’t think we can pull that one off. So I must suffer for my crime of passion and love affair with the sky.’ Fitz grinned at Annie. ‘Ignore me, I’m being dramatic.’
Annie giggled but stopped abruptly as the door opened and out came Camilla.
‘Is everything all right?’ Camilla asked.
‘Yes,’ replied Fitz. ‘I was just asking Annie if she could make sure my blue dress was clean so I can wear it on Saturday.’
Camilla looked between Fitz and Annie. ‘Right. I’m pleased to hear that you’re already thinking ahead. Now, Annie, run along and do whatever it is you’re supposed to be doing.’
Fitz spent the afternoon duly writing the letter of apology to Miss Stevens and resisting the urge to add a postscript that she wasn’t sorry in the slightest. She wasn’t sorry the old battleaxe was leaving, either. Her father had declared the summer holidays were to commence a week or two early so that it would give him time to appoint a new governess for Michael, to start at the beginning of September, if that was what they decided, or to enrol the boy in a boarding school.
Fitz had just finished her letter of apology when the door opened, and her father came into the drawing room.
‘Ah, there you are,’ he said. He ran his fingers around his chin, smoothing down his beard. A habit that Fitz recognised when her father was concerned about something.
She placed her ink pen in the well. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked, getting to her feet.
Her father indicated to the sofa and for Fitz to sit down. He stood in front of the fireplace, his hands now behind his back and a frown creasing his forehead.
