The Governess of Highland Hall: A Novel Read online

  Praise for

  The Governess of Highland Hall

  “There is much to like about Carrie Turansky’s The Governess of Highland Hall: a sweet noble heroine, a proud yet vulnerable hero, and a Downton Abbey–inspired setting. Endearing supporting characters and two romances add to the pleasure. Fans of Christian fiction and Downton Abbey will enjoy this story!”

  —JULIE KLASSEN, best-selling author of The Tutor’s Daughter

  “I admit I’m a Downton Abbey junkie. Thankfully, I got my fix with Carrie Turansky’s delightful new novel. Everything about this book breathes upstairs-downstairs, and I was swept away into the world of Highland Hall—the language, the customs, the clothes, the drama, the romance, oh, the romance! Absolutely charming, if I do say so myself!”

  —SUSAN MAY WARREN, RITA and Christy Award winner and best-selling novelist of Duchess

  “Prim and wonderful, The Governess of Highland Hall is an exquisitely woven Downton Abbey tapestry, proper and perfectly of English nobility and their servants. With the utmost sensitivity and skill, Carrie Turansky has penned a breathless Edwardian love story not to be missed!”

  —JULIE LESSMAN, award-winning author of the Daughters of Boston and Winds of Change series

  “In The Governess of Highland Hall, Carrie Turansky blends a compelling heroine standing on the precipice of class divide with a magnificent Edwardian country estate in danger of ruin. She mixes well with an unforgettable cast of characters. The result is a beautifully written, faith-filled romance—the first in a series not to be missed.”

  —CATHY GOHLKE, Christy Award–winning author of Promise Me This and Band of Sisters

  “Fans of sweet romance will delight in The Governess of Highland Hall, set on a majestic estate of old, where love blossoms both upstairs and down in Edwardian England. Author Carrie Turansky has woven a tender and uplifting tale with a heartwarming message.”

  —JOANNE BISCHOF, award-winning author of the Cadence of Grace series

  “With its engaging cast of characters, a setting reminiscent of Downton Abbey, and a storyline that celebrates faith, family, and friendship, The Governess of Highland Hall is more than a historical romance. It’s a book that’s sure to delight Carrie Turansky’s current fans and bring her many more.”

  —AMANDA CABOT, best-selling author of Christmas Roses

  “The Governess of Highland Hall is a deeply emotional story of learning to submit to God’s will. Fans of Downton Abbey will enjoy the Edwardian time period, the English traditions, and the upstairs-below-stairs intrigue. The characters are richly developed, Turansky’s prose lyrical. I enjoyed my stay at Highland Hall!”

  —BETH WHITE, Carol Award–winning author of Controlling Interest and The Pelican Bride (coming in April 2014)

  “The Governess of Highland Hall is a delightful journey to Edwardian England with a cast of colorful characters and plot twists at every turn. With a nice mix of upstairs-downstairs drama and a spunky heroine, Carrie Turansky weaves a tale that will enchant Downton Abbey aficionados. Lovely and heartfelt.”

  —CARLA STEWART, award-winning author of Chasing Lilacs and Sweet Dreams

  BOOKS BY CARRIE TURANSKY

  NOVELS

  Snowflake Sweethearts

  A Man to Trust

  Seeking His Love

  Along Came Love

  Surrendered Hearts

  NOVELLAS

  Christmas Mail-Order Brides

  Kiss the Bride

  A Blue and Gray Christmas

  A Big Apple Christmas

  Wedded Bliss?

  THE GOVERNESS OF HIGHLAND HALL

  PUBLISHED BY MULTNOMAH BOOKS

  12265 Oracle Boulevard, Suite 200

  Colorado Springs, Colorado 80921

  Scripture quotations and paraphrases are taken from the King James Version and The Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV® Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission. All rights reserved worldwide.

  The characters and events in this book are fictional, and any resemblance to actual persons or events is coincidental.

  Trade Paperback ISBN 978-1-60142-496-9

  eBook ISBN 978-1-60142-497-6

  Copyright © 2013 by Carrie Turansky

  Cover design by Kristopher K. Orr; cover photography (governess) by Mike Heath, Magnus Creative, and (castle) by Ian Wilson

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying and recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published in the United States by WaterBrook Multnomah, an imprint of the Crown Publishing Group, a division of Random House LLC, New York, a Penguin Random House Company.

  MULTNOMAH and its mountain colophon are registered trademarks of Random House LLC.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Turansky, Carrie.

  The Governess of Highland Hall : A Novel / Carrie Turansky.

  pages cm. — (Edwardian Brides)

  ISBN 978-1-60142-496-9 (paperback) — ISBN 978-1-60142-497-6 (electronic)

  I. Title.

  PS3620.U7457G68 2013

  813’.6—dc23

  2013024721

  v3.1

  This book is dedicated to my husband, Scott Turansky,

  whose love and encouragement have freed

  me to write the stories of my heart.

  You are the inspiration for every hero I write.

  Many waters cannot quench love;

  rivers cannot sweep it away.

  If one were to give

  all the wealth of one’s house for love,

  it would be utterly scorned.

  —SONG OF SONGS 8:7

  Blessed are the pure in heart,

  for they will see God.

  —MATTHEW 5:8

  Contents

  Cover

  Other Books by This Author

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Epigraph

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Readers Guide

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  ONE

  October 1911

  Berkshire, England

  Julia Foster lifted her gaze to the clear October sky as a lark swooped past. Her steps slowed and her thoughts took flight, following the bird as it dipped into the golden trees beyond the meadow. If only she could fly away, back to the familiar life and cherished friends she had left behind in India. But that dream would have to wait.

  She shifted her gaze to the country lane rising before her. Around the next bend she would see Highland Hall. At least tha
t was what she remembered, but twelve years had passed since she had attended a charity bazaar at the large estate before her family left for India. What if she had misjudged the distance or the time it took to walk from the village of Fulton to Highland Hall? She quickened her pace. It wouldn’t do to be late for her ten o’clock appointment with Mrs. Emmitt, the housekeeper.

  When she reached the top of the rise, she spotted an expensive-looking navy-blue motorcar with a black roof pulled to the side of the lane. A tall man, who had discarded his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt, stood over the open hood. He reached in and pulled on something, then bent lower and scowled.

  She considered walking past since they had not been introduced, but her conscience would not allow it. Stopping a few feet away, she cleared her throat. “Excuse me, sir. Do you need some assistance?”

  He turned and glared at her. “Assistance?” His dark eyebrows rose to a haughty slant. “I suppose you know something about car engines?”

  Julia lifted her chin, suppressing the urge to match his mocking tone. “No sir. But I’m on my way to Highland Hall, and I could ask someone there to come and help you if you like.”

  He huffed, grabbed the rag lying on the car’s running board, and wiped his hands. “It won’t do any good. No one there knows a blasted thing about cars.” He tapped the gold Highland insignia on the door.

  Julia stepped away, more than happy to leave the brooding chauffeur behind.

  “Wait, you say you’re headed to Highland Hall?”

  She turned and faced him again. “Yes, I have an interview with Mrs. Emmitt.” Perhaps if he knew she might soon be working for Sir William Ramsey, the new master of Highland Hall, he would treat her with a little more respect.

  He narrowed his deep blue eyes and assessed her. “An interview? For what position?”

  She looked away, debating the wisdom of continuing the conversation with a man who wasn’t civil enough to introduce himself.

  “It’s all right. You can tell me.” He nodded to her, obviously expecting a reply.

  “If you must know, I’m applying for the position of governess.”

  A look of disbelief flashed across his face and the scowl returned. “You look too young. Do you have any experience?”

  She straightened, trying to add another inch to her petite stature, but she was still at least a foot shorter than he. “I’ve been teaching children for nine years.”

  “Really? Did you begin teaching when you were ten?”

  She clenched her jaw. Was there no end to the man’s rudeness? “No sir. I was eighteen. And if you’ll excuse me, I must go, or I’ll be late for my appointment.” She turned and strode away.

  “There’s no need to rush off in a huff.” He caught up with her. “I didn’t mean to insult you.”

  “I’m not insulted, just intent on being punctual.” She cast him a quick side glance. “I don’t have the time or luxury to stand by the roadside and fiddle with car engines.”

  He grinned and then chuckled.

  Heat flashed into her face. Infuriating man! How dare he laugh at her. She hurried on, not giving him the satisfaction of a reply.

  “Well, pardon me.”

  She sent him a withering look and walked on so quickly she got a stitch in her side.

  With his long legs, he had no trouble keeping pace. “You certainly have spirit. I like that.”

  She gulped in a big breath and spun toward him. “You, sir, are entirely too familiar and too rude for words!”

  His jaw dropped, and he stared at her, wide-eyed.

  With her face burning, she marched away. She’d only gone a few steps before regret overtook her. Forgive me, Lord. I should not have spoken to him like that. But he was so ill mannered I couldn’t help myself. She sighed and lifted her eyes to heaven. I’m sorry. I know that’s not true. You’re faithful to give me the strength to control my tongue if I will only ask. But please, Lord, could You make him forget what I said? Or at least let me have little contact with him at Highland?

  She doubted that last part of her prayer would be answered. While Highland Hall was a large house, the staff probably saw each other throughout the day.

  What a terrible way to start off. No doubt he’d tell everyone she was hot-tempered and not worthy of the position of governess. And that was assuming she got the job. And she must. Her father’s illness had stretched on for months, forcing them to leave India and return to England. Now that he was unable to practice medicine, her parents depended on her for support. She must not let them down, no matter how humbling or difficult the job might be.

  The lane curved to the right, and Highland Hall came into view. Julia’s steps slowed as she took in the lovely grounds and large house. It looked more like a castle, standing four stories high at its tallest point, with a wide lawn and curved, gravel drive leading to the front door. It was built of sand-colored stone, and though some sections had turned yellow and gray with age, it still looked sturdy and imposing. A tall, round turret stood at the right corner, and an arched portico stretched halfway across the front of the house.

  Oh Lord, that house is worth a fortune, and the people who live there are definitely used to a different life than I’ve lived. How will I ever fit in?

  She shook her head, then straightened her shoulders. There was no time to fret, not if she wanted to make a good impression and arrive at the appointed hour. She made her way around the side of the house, following the directions Reverend Langford had given her.

  A broad-shouldered man wearing a brown cap and tweed coat pushed a wheelbarrow toward the greenhouse. He stopped and nodded to her. “Can I help you, miss?” He looked about thirty-five and had a kind, honest face.

  She returned his nod with a slight smile. “I have an appointment with Mrs. Emmitt.”

  He pointed to a door tucked in a corner at the back of the house. “Just ring the bell there, miss, and someone will be along to help you.”

  She thanked him and crossed the rear courtyard. Pulling in a deep breath, she smoothed her hand down her cloak and skirt and checked her hat. Everything seemed to be in place. Lifting her hand, she pressed the bell while her stomach fluttered like a nervous bird.

  Only a few seconds passed before the door opened and a plump young woman with rosy cheeks and bright blue eyes greeted her. She wore a white apron over her dark green servant’s uniform and a white cap. “How can I help you, miss?”

  “I’m Julia Foster. I’m here to see Mrs. Emmitt.”

  “Very good. Come this way.” She started down the steps and smiled over her shoulder. “I’m Lydia, one of the housemaids. Are you here about a position?”

  “Yes.” Remembering her encounter with the brooding chauffeur, she decided not to add any more details. As they reached the bottom step, the heavenly scent of baking bread and roasting meat floated toward her. She breathed deeply, savoring the smell. Her empty stomach contracted, reminding her that she had walked off the simple breakfast of porridge she’d eaten at seven.

  Lydia led the way past the kitchen. Julia glanced through the doorway and saw two young women and a man in a white chef’s jacket chopping vegetables at the table in the center of the room. He said something to one of the women, but his French accent was so strong Julia couldn’t understand him.

  “You’ll want to mind your p’s and q’s with Mrs. Emmitt,” Lydia said, continuing down the hallway. “She’s a stickler for proper manners and such. But you’re smart-looking. That should help it go well for you.”

  “Thank you,” Julia murmured, though she wasn’t sure that was the right response.

  “This is it.” Lydia stopped in front of a closed door. “Mug’s parlor, at least that’s what we call it.” She grinned and nodded. “Go on, then. Give it a knock, and good luck to you.”

  Julia nodded to her, sent off one more silent prayer, then rapped on the door while the maid disappeared into another room.

  The door swung open, and a stern-faced woman who appea
red to be about sixty looked out at her. She wore a plain navy-blue dress with a cameo pinned at the high neck and a set of keys clipped to her waistband. Small, wire-rimmed glasses perched on the bridge of her nose.

  “Good day, ma’am. I’m Julia Foster.”

  “Come in. I’ve been expecting you.” She motioned toward the straight-backed chair by the fireplace while she lowered herself onto the settee. “Do you have your letters of reference?”

  “Yes ma’am.” Julia took the letters from Reverend Langford and Lady Farnsworth from her handbag and gave them to Mrs. Emmitt.

  The housekeeper pursed her lips and read Lady Farnsworth’s letter first. “She says your family has been acquainted with hers for many years.”

  “Yes, my father served as her family physician since the time of her marriage to Lord Farnsworth.”

  “I’m not sure what that has to do with you.” Mrs. Emmitt opened and read Reverend Langford’s letter next, her stern expression never softening. “It says you’ve been out of the country for twelve years. Is that correct?”

  Julia nodded. “Our family has been serving in India since 1899 with the London Missionary Society.”

  Mrs. Emmitt’s nose wrinkled slightly as her gaze dipped back to the letter. “You were a teacher there?”

  “Yes, we opened a home for girls and ran a medical clinic for the village.”

  Memories of India came flooding back—the overflowing marketplace, heavy with the scent of spices, the magenta flowers climbing the stone wall surrounding their home, the colorful embroidered saris of the women, and the beautiful dark faces of their girls … her students and the flowers of their ministry.

  “Miss Foster?”

  Julia blinked. “I’m sorry, what did you say?”

  “How do you intend to teach the social skills our young ladies need to learn to enter society when you’ve been raised in”—she looked at Julia over the top of her glasses—“such a heathen environment?”

  Heat infused her cheeks. “I was raised in Fulton by loving Christian parents who passed on their godly values and manners. I attended the village school until age twelve, then my mother taught me at home until I was fifteen. My training continued under my parents’ guidance when we traveled to India. My experiences there have given me unique opportunities to see God at work in the world and to interact with all types of people.”