The Governess Club: Sara

By Ellie Macdonald

For fans of Christina Dodd and Elizabeth Boyle.

Sweet Sara Collins is one of the founding members of the Governess Club. But she has a secret: She doesn't love teaching. She'd much prefer to be a vicar's wife and help the local community. But this quiet mouse doesn't want to upset her friends, and she resolves to help in whatever ways she can.

Nathan Grant is the embodiment of everything that frightens Sara. Which is why she can't understand why the handsome but reclusive and gruff man is so fascinating to her. When Sara decides it's time to take a chance and experience all that life has to offer, Nathan is the first person she thinks of.

Will Sara's walk on the wild side ruin her chances at a simple, happy life? Or has she just opened the door to a once-in-a-lifetime chance at passion?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Open Road Integrated Media
• Release date: Sep 2, 2014
• ISBN: 9780062292261

Ellie Macdonald

Ellie Macdonald has held several jobs beginning with the letter T: taxi driver, telemarketer, and, most recently, teacher. She is thankful her interests have shifted to writing instead of taxidermy or tornado chasing. Having traveled to five different continents, she has swum with elephants, scuba dived through coral mazes, visited a leper colony, and climbed waterfalls and windmills, but her favorite place remains Regency England. She currently lives in Ontario, Canada. The Governess Club series is her first published work.

Book preview

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Early May 1823

Sara’s breath caught when his eyes, dark as chocolate, met hers. Holding her gaze, those delicious eyes softened and glowed, sending ripples of warmth through her veins. A slow smile pulled across his lips, tugging an answering one on hers. Breathing became more difficult the longer their gazes remained locked. Her heartbeat quickened.

I therefore beseech you, my brethren, to strive to love your neighbor not simply as you love yourself, but as God loves you.

Even his voice sent tingles over her skin.

Mr. Charles Pomeroy, the new vicar in the village of Taft, moved his gaze to another in the congregation. Think not merely of how you would wish to be treated, but how God would treat you in a similar situation. Seek out those who require succor and generosity of spirit and wealth, for it is our treatment of those in need by which we will be judged and will permit us to see the face of our benevolent Creator.

Goodness, but their children would be blessed, especially if they take after their father. Sara could scarcely wait for that chapter of their lives to begin.

A sharp pinch in her side jerked Sara back to the present. She managed to stifle the instinctive shriek, thus avoiding disturbing the Sunday morning service and acquiring the unwanted attention of the village gossips.

Frowning, Sara glanced at the offending hand and gave Louisa a weak glare.

Stop daydreaming about him, her friend hissed under her breath.

Sara started to protest, but was cut off by the congregation rising for the final hymn. Mrs. Yardley hammered the notes on the pianoforte and Sara flipped through the hymnal pages to the appropriate song. Her clear voice joined the others.

She glanced up at the lectern and Mr. Pomeroy gave her another smile. She blushed and dropped her eyes back down, getting an elbow from Louisa this time.

Really, Sara, Louisa Hurst scolded once the service was over. What will people think when they see a member of the Governess Club swooning in public over the vicar?

I— Sara began.

Claire Knightly broke in. This isn’t really the place, ladies, she said, a smile pasted on her face as she nodded politely to an elderly matron wearing a hat the size of Kent. Shall we? She took her husband’s offered arm and led the group out of the small church. Sara and Louisa followed, suitably chastened.

Sara squinted as they stepped out, her small bonnet ineffective against the blinding sun. Using her hand as a shield, she saw Mr. Pomeroy standing nearby, surrounded by ladies of all ages. The handsome young man was smiling kindly, his attention jumping as one lady after another tried to capture his notice.

I declare, Mr. Pomeroy, you do have an eye for flower arrangements, Mrs. Glendoe was saying as Sara’s group approached. You must feel free to use any of the blossoms from my garden in the church. Come by for tea Saturday next and my daughter Rebecca will help you select them. The middle-aged matron pushed her daughter in the vicar’s direction.

Thank you for your generosity, Mrs. Glendoe, Mr. Pomeroy said in his smooth, deep voice. He noticed the new additions to the group around him and smiled. But I must be honest in telling you that it was Miss Collins who arranged the flowers. I have no talent when it comes to that sort of thing, and she has been rescuing me for the past few weeks. Her talent is a gift from God.

Sara blushed. The ladies in the circle all turned and looked at her, some pleasantly, some not. She shifted under their regard, unused to the attention.

Louisa stepped in. We at Ridgestone are always willing to help out, Mr. Pomeroy. The Governess Club firmly believes in contributing to the larger community.

Ah, yes indeed. Mr. Pomeroy looked bemused at Louisa’s words. He shifted his gaze to Jacob. Mr. Knightly, if I might have a word. He broke away from the gaggle of women and stood several feet away with Jacob, speaking in low tones.

Sara felt every female eye land on her again. She resisted the urge to shift nervously. Mrs. Glendoe was not succeeding in hiding her animosity, but several of the others were looking at her with kindness. She felt somewhat at ease with that knowledge.

The flower arrangements were beautiful, Mrs. Yardley, the pianist, complimented her. Her husband ran the general mercantile shop with her assistance, and she always welcomed Sara with a smile.

Thank you, ma’am, Sara replied in her quiet voice. Mrs. Knightly has done wonders in restoring the gardens at Ridgestone. It only felt right to share them with the church and the community.

Mrs. Glendoe sniffed. Quite generous of you, to offer another’s flowers.

Sara froze as Mrs. Glendoe’s disapproval and judgment tied a noose around her neck, tightening with every moment she was subjected to the lady’s severe glare. Breathing became difficult and her tongue felt glued to the back of her mouth.

My Rebecca would never do something of the sort, Mrs. Glendoe continued. I find it difficult to believe the vicar would condone something akin to thievery.

Sara’s chest constricted, and she felt trapped by the lady’s vehemence. Her mind blanked of everything but the thought of escape.

Louisa took Sara’s arm, preventing her flight. Sara’s friend met Mrs. Glendoe’s basilisk glare with one of her own. Miss Collins is an asset to Ridgestone and to Taft, and Mr. Pomeroy is wise to acknowledge her value.

Claire joined in. And she is a welcome resident at the manor. Her voice was even, but the steel underneath was evident. The flowers are hers to offer as well and she has all of our blessings to do so.

I have seen your gardens, Mrs. Knightly, Mrs. Thatcher, the matron with the Kent-size hat joined in. You do have much to be proud of. She shared a look with Claire and Louisa, acknowledging the necessary change in subject.

Claire gave Mrs. Glendoe another hard look before turning her full attention to Mrs. Thatcher. Thank you, ma’am; it is something I enjoy doing. Other ladies, taking their cue from the conversation, shifted until Mrs. Glendoe and her daughter were effectively cut out from the group. Huffing, the lady stalked to her carriage, her daughter trailing behind her.

It rivals even that of Windent Hall’s garden, at least how it was thirty years ago, Mrs. Thatcher continued. I remember attending gatherings there as a young girl. The fragrances and combinations of blossoms were always to be remarked upon. I have yet to see another garden so peaceful and relaxing.

Windent Hall, the one bordering Ridgestone? Louisa asked Claire. I thought it was abandoned.

It is, it is, the elderly lady answered for Claire. Nearly twenty-five years now since the family up and left. No one knows why, but of course there were rumors of financial difficulty. The saddest part of all is how those gardens have been dormant ever since.

The innocuous conversation soothed Sara like hot chocolate on a cold day. Slowly her lungs regained their capacity for air. She glanced at Louisa, who still held Sara’s arm, keeping her close. The firm embrace was comforting, and Sara was grateful for the support of her friend.

Louisa caught Sara’s eye and discreetly rubbed her arm. Breathe, sweetheart, she whispered. In two three four, out two three four.

Sara complied, feeling the noose loosen, and she breathed in relief. She hoped her eyes conveyed her gratitude. Louisa smiled and squeezed Sara’s arm before turning back to the conversation.

I heard that the Hall is no longer abandoned, Miss Felicity Leighton piped up. Mama said just yesterday that it has been sold and Missy Evans said an agent came to her father asking to hire her and her brother to ready the place. I daresay we can expect the owner to arrive in the next few weeks or so.

Who bought it? The question was on the mind of every gossip in the group.

Miss Leighton preened at being the center of attention. That I do not know for certain. I think it is a young viscount looking to expand his holdings. Just imagine, a lord in the village! He will likely be bringing his family or bachelor friends here for hunting and such. Miss Leighton was known to be looking for a noble marriage.

Louisa smirked and said to Sara under her breath, I daresay if it is a viscount, we had best warn him away.

Sara giggled, the action dislodging the rest of her anxiety.

Claire, Jacob’s voice interrupted the conversation. Are you ready to return home? My stomach is requesting luncheon.

Claire smiled at the ladies in the circle. It was a pleasure to see you this morning. Louisa and Sara echoed the farewell, and Jacob helped them all into the carriage, Claire taking the front-facing seat and her husband joining her. Sara and Louisa sat across from them, facing the rear. Sara burrowed herself into the side of the carriage as much as she was able to give Louisa more room.

Miss Collins, Mr. Pomeroy called out and approached the vehicle. Sara happily returned the smile. I wish to thank you again for the flower arrangements.

It is no trouble, sir, she replied, feeling her face heat up again.

I was hoping I could impose on you to accompany me on my visits again this Wednesday. I am still struggling with the names and circumstances of my new congregation.

Of course, I would be happy to. Sara’s smile grew until it ached.

You are certain it is not an imposition? he asked, concerned. I am confident that after this week I will be able to manage on my own.

Not at all, she assured him. I enjoyed doing the same with my father before he passed.

Thank you, Miss Collins, Mr. Pomeroy said with a slight bow. I will come to Ridgestone on Wednesday, then.

Sara continued to smile at him as the carriage moved away. The handsome vicar raised his hand in farewell, waving as they pulled out of the courtyard. Still smiling, Sara settled back into her seat.

You are embarrassing yourself, Sara. Louisa’s comment caught her attention.

Excuse me? she asked.

He is just using you, yet you continue to throw yourself at him, Louisa said.

Louisa, Claire began.

But she continued on. Our reputation is our strongest attribute; if it is not spotless, then we are nothing. Even after a year, we are barely managing to meet our financial obligations. We cannot afford to have even the slightest blemish on our names.

Again, allow me to offer financial assistance, Jacob said, bringing up a long-standing discussion. I have no qualms about using my fortune to benefit the school.

Louisa’s narrowed eyes shifted to him. Her jaw set and her mouth flattened. No. We have discussed this. We have no desire to become dependent upon a man.

Louisa, Claire broke in more firmly this time and returned to the topic at hand. A connection to the vicar and the church can only help us. Yes, it is a concern, as we do not want Sara to get hurt, but it is her choice how she spends her free time.

If you appear too eager, Sara, Louisa said, he will not be interested. The opposite will occur.

Well, I’m not sure I fully agree with that, Jacob countered. Some gentlemen need to be assured of a lady’s interest before doing anything.

But that is not my real concern, Louisa defended herself. He is using her. How can you not see it?

Sara turned her head to look at the passing scenery as her friends continued to speak of her as though she were not there. Louisa didn’t understand—none of them did. Assisting a vicar was all she knew, all she was good at. She had loved helping her father before his death; the act of helping those in need brought peace and purpose to her life. Seeing another’s life improve through her efforts gave her a sense of accomplishment.

There was no doubt in her mind: She was meant to be a vicar’s wife.

See here, what’s this? Jacob’s statement brought Sara back to the conversation to see him straighten in his seat and crane his neck out to peer beyond the carriage. She and Louisa swiveled in their seats to do the same and saw a gentleman leading a horse along the side of the lane. Both were limping.

Rogers, stop the carriage, Jacob ordered. He hopped out as soon as he was able and approached the man.

Sara craned her neck even more to get a better look at the gentleman. His dark clothes were dusty and rumpled and his cravat was flat, but the understated fine quality of his garments was still visible. His hair was hidden under his hat, obviously kept short, although light wisps played at his collar in the slight breeze. Though lanky of build, the man’s shoulders were still broad and his chest was full, exuding strength.

I wonder who it is, Claire mused.

Sara shook her head. I don’t recognize him.

Likely just a stranded traveler, Louisa said. There’s not much else to draw people to Taft other than repairs.

They were too far away to hear what the gentlemen were discussing. The stranger gestured to his horse and Jacob responded in kind, motioning toward the carriage. For one frightful moment, Sara thought she would have to endure the anxiety of meeting the man, but thankfully he shook his head, and Jacob then pointed toward the village, obviously giving directions. They ended their conversation with a handshake and Jacob made his way back to the carriage.

Sara’s eyes remained on the gentleman, for once in her life curious of a stranger. He had turned to his horse and was patting its neck, obviously soothing the animal. He was more finely dressed than what they were used to in Taft; perhaps he was from London or somewhere close to there. What was he doing in their little part of the country?

The carriage rocked as Jacob climbed in, breaking Sara’s concentration on the stranger. What was amiss? Claire asked.

His horse threw a shoe and he is going to Taft to have it seen to, her husband replied.

I was right, Louisa said, a triumphant note in her voice.

You didn’t offer him any help or a ride? Claire asked, her attention still on Jacob.

He pursed his lips. Of course I did. He refused.

You should have insisted.

I cannot and will not force a man to accept my assistance, Claire. I gave him directions to the blacksmith as well as to Ridgestone, should he find himself in need of us.

But—

Drive on, Rogers, Jacob ordered, and the carriage lurched into motion.

Sara looked back at the stranger as they passed. He tipped his hat in thanks and bowed slightly. When he straightened, his blue eyes locked with hers, startling her with their icy hue. The hair on her nape rose in awareness and her skin prickled. A surprised gasp caught in her throat, having not expected him to meet her gaze so intensely while she was in a moving carriage.

Sara jerked her gaze away, breaking the momentary connection with the stranger. Through a dust cloud, she saw him turn toward Taft and resume his journey, both horse and man limping as they receded from her sight.

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"Now say it."

I feel ridiculous.

Forget that. Just say it.

Louisa—

Sara, just do it, Louisa insisted.

Sara pursed her lips and looked at Louisa, trying not to laugh. Her friend had done a credible job of re-creating Mrs. Glendoe from a dress manikin, using one of the sports balls for her head and an old-fashioned wig found in a costume trunk. The ball had a sour expression drawn on it, the mouth curled into a scowl.

Sara again looked at Louisa, who gestured impatiently at the makeshift Mrs. Glendoe. Claire just sat on the sofa and sipped her tea, a sparkle in her eye. All three were in their private sitting room, enjoying the quiet Sunday afternoon before the rush of the week began.

She took a deep breath and began to speak. Mrs. Glendoe—

Louder, Louisa interrupted.

Mrs. Glendoe, Sara repeated more loudly, I do not recall asking for your opinion. She looked impatiently at Louisa. This is pointless. I know it’s not her, so it’s not the same.

But the more you practice now, the easier it will be when you actually do confront her. Claire pointed out.

But I don’t actually want to confront her. Even just the thought of doing so caused her throat to tighten. Sara swallowed to dislodge it, disguising the action by taking a sip of her tea. The teacup shook in her hand and rattled as she placed it back on the saucer.

Claire smiled. It will get easier, she repeated.

Louisa sat with a huff and reached for a scone. I don’t understand it. Do you enjoy the way she makes you feel?

Of course not, Sara answered.

Then why do you let her treat you like that? Why do you freeze instead of standing up to her? Louisa asked, impatience painting her voice. I’m trying to understand you, but it’s difficult when you won’t tell us why.

Sara stared down into her tea. How could she explain it to them when she barely understood herself why she reacted the way she did? Even this conversation, despite knowing that Louisa had the best of intentions, made her throat prickle; the sensation was not unlike feeling ants crawling over her skin, but internalized.

She had always been this way, much to the exasperation of her mother.

Claire took her hand and pulled her up. Come here, she said, leading Sara to the manikin. Allow me to introduce you. Sara, this is Mrs. Glendoe.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Glendoe, Sara said to the manikin, curtseying properly.

Louisa joined them and curtseyed as well. Good afternoon, you miserable old bat. She said it with a smile pasted on her face.

Louisa! Sara gasped.

Claire curtseyed this time. Mrs. Glendoe, how horrid you look with that scowl on your face. I certainly regret we weren’t better at avoiding you.

Sara stared at her friends. Had they gone mad? Didn’t they know they weren’t supposed to speak of someone in such a manner? What if Mrs. Glendoe were to find out what they had done?

Louisa smirked and continued. I must say, that scowl does give us an appalling view of your rotting teeth. Tell me, do you sharpen those fangs yourself, or is there someone who does it for you?

Claire laughed. And your eyes. Did it take much practice for them to glare daggers at someone?

Sara couldn’t hold back a giggle. Horrified, she clamped a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide as she looked at her friends. Both ladies looked at her with knowing smiles and Louisa pulled the hand away.

Claire winked at Sara. Mrs. Glendoe, tell me, what is it like to eat your young?

Louisa chimed in again. What if they don’t taste good? Is there a jam or sauce you can put on them?

You both are awful, Sara whispered, but she couldn’t stop the smile from tugging at her lips.

And how do you moisturize your scales? Louisa asked, batting her lashes innocently at the manikin.

Claire nudged Sara and nodded toward the manikin. Your turn. Do you have something to say to Mrs. Glendoe?

Sara shook her head. I can’t. If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. Her mother’s command echoed in her head.

Go on, Claire encouraged.

Louisa went again. I am surprised you have yet to set fire to your home, you old dragon. She nudged Sara.

She shook her head again. The ants were back in her throat. Treat others the way you want to be treated.

Just say something, Louisa said.

Say what? The deep voice saved Sara from answering Louisa. Claire smiled as Jacob entered the sitting room. Oh, I see we have a guest, he said, approaching the group around the manikin. He sketched a courtly bow. To whom do I have the honor?

Mrs. Glendoe, Claire informed him with a smile. We were just asking the harpy some questions.

Ah, I wish I could say it is lovely to see you, but I value honesty. He took the cue from Claire, grinning.

Sara pursed her lips. She didn’t understand how her friends could even think such things. Even if it was difficult to not laugh, they shouldn’t be so insulting. You are the daughter of the vicar. You must set an example.

Jacob continued, circling the manikin. Yes, I do believe you are the most vicious form of the black widow species mankind has ever encountered. Tell me, did Mr. Glendoe go down more easily with a glass of port?

Laughing, Louisa nudged Sara again. Give it a go.

Sara shook her head again. I can’t. If I hear of you being disrespectful, you will regret ever opening your mouth.

Yes you can. Look.

Jacob had taken Mrs. Glendoe’s head and placed it on his shoulder. Be honest. Does this head make me look fat?

Claire laughed. Not only that, but it’s improved her looks and disposition in return.

Louisa pushed Sara toward the manikin. Your turn and no getting out of it this time.

Sara just stared at the headless manikin, unable to form any words of insult. The ants were becoming more active in her throat and she knew it was just a matter of time before the noose appeared.

There’s no harm in it, Claire said.

Just do it, Louisa insisted.

Jacob replaced the head, facing it backward. I always knew she was misguided. Now we know why.

Sara, Louisa continued through her laughter, she deserves it. She is a horrid person.

I can’t. Her voice came out as a squeak. I told you you would regret it! Now come here!

Louisa, Claire warned in a soft voice, concerned eyes on Sara, but it was lost in the loud laughter.

Just do it, Louisa insisted more loudly. Do it.

Please, I can’t. It was becoming increasingly difficult to breathe and speak.

Why not? It’s easy. Louisa pushed her more. Just tell her how you feel.

I’m not you! Sara burst out just as her throat closed completely. The noose had wrapped around her throat and had tightened, stopping the air from getting into her lungs. She looked at Claire with panicked eyes.

It’s all right, sweetheart, Claire said in a soothing voice, leading Sara quickly to the sofa. Just breathe. There’s nothing here to threaten you. In two three four, out two three four.

Sara struggled to get air past the noose, her head making short jerks as she inhaled noisily.

Look at me, Claire instructed, still using her calm, soothing tone. Focus on me and on breathing. In two three four, out two three four.

Louisa had sat on the other side of Sara and rubbed her back, counting with Claire. Jacob put the manikin behind a decorative screen in the corner and discreetly left the room, knowing Sara disliked him seeing her thus.

The more air that passed the noose, the more relaxed Sara became. Slowly the noose lifted and the anxiety drained away. As her labored breathing eased, her embarrassment increased. She stared at her lap. I am sorry, she whispered. I know you were just having a spot of fun and I ruined it.

No. Louisa was firm. I ruined it. I shouldn’t have pushed you when you said you couldn’t. It is my fault.

Claire shook her head. "There is no need to place blame in this. What happened, happened. There is no need to dwell

Reviews for The Governess Club

[whiskeyinthejar-1 · Rating: 3 out of 5 stars]

3.5 stars

I received this book for free in exchange for an honest review. This does not affect my opinion of the book or the content of my review.

Sara is an extremely shy individual working as a governess with three of her friends at a school they run. Her father was the local pastor in their small town and her mother constantly berated her about her actions and appearance. As a consequence of all this mental and at times physical abuse, Sara frequently and easily has panic attacks. Whenever she meets someone new or is challenged in a conversation "ants start climbing up her throat" and a "noose" tightens around her neck. This has lead to Sara not speaking her mind and being generally ignored. When Sara first stares into the ice blue eyes of the stranger in town, she feels a desire to be bold for the first time. Nathan couldn't be more different from Sara; he was a very loquacious politician and reveled in all the luxuries and bribes his position afforded him. After a certain bribe is offered to him, Nathan has a self-reflective moment, is disgusted by what he sees, and decides to leave politicking for time in the country.

Ellie Macdonald is a fairly new author and this was the first book by her I have ever read. The beginning and for most of the middle, I found her writing to be thick and luxurious with dollops of humor here and there; she brought to mind shades of how Susan Johnson writes her main characters. This is an extremely character driven story, there is not much happening outside of Sara and Nathan getting to know one another. I like character centric stories, so personally, this was not a problem. Although, around the 65% mark the pace did slow down as the story became over indulgent on its focus of Sara's taught self-loathing.

This started off quite strong as Sara and Nathan were both intriguing. Sara is a highly sympathetic character as her outward actions portray a weak and immensely biddable person but her thoughts convey to the reader a spirited woman wanting to break free. Nathan is all that is dark, broody, and mysterious at the start but while Sara evolved throughout the story, I never felt that Nathan was completely flushed out. Together, they work well as Nathan pushes Sara to express how she feels and in fact blatantly tells her not to let him push her around, even when he doesn't realize he is doing it. I think this story worked the best when we first see the push/pull between Sara and Nathan as they are drawn to each other and then Nathan building Sara up during their week alone together that Sara precipitated by asking Nathan for an adventure.

It is after this week is over that things started to feel rushed as everything wraps up far too quickly. If a story is going to be solely focusing on two characters and their relationship, then those characters have to be incredibly flushed out and like I said, this never happened with Nathan. Nathan never quite breaks away from being mysterious, his political career is never really resolved, and though it is often brought up how he loved his grandma and wants to make her proud, we never gain a true understanding of their relationship. Sara and Nathan's parting and eventual coming together never felt climatic, just abrupt. It was almost like the author had months to write the first half and then one day to write the ending. There is also a bit of a cliff hanger ending but as it has nothing to do with Sara and Nathan but the couple that will be the stars of the next book in the series, it's not a big deal.

The Governess Saga: Sara is a good read with commendable writing and characters you find yourself invested in, the rushed ending just steals away a bit of that magic, though. Ellie Macdonald's enticing writing and enjoyable interaction between Sara and Nathan make her an author I will be keeping my eye on and if you like character driven stories, I would suggest you do the same.

[bookworm2bookworm · Rating: 4 out of 5 stars]

This is the third story in this series and finally first full-sized tale. I was pleasantly surprised in all aspects of it.

The characters were fully realized and complex; the plot intriguing and complex as well; the romance was very realistic and to my liking because it took its time in developing; the pace was just perfect, not too rushed.

Sara was truly one of the most complex characters I've read in a while. I liked that she had many flaws, yet you just couldn't help but like her sweet nature.

Nathan had me a bit confused at the beginning of the story, but his backstory explained much of his behavior and I warmed up to him as the story developed.

In the end, this is a story and a series I do recommend and hope you'll read because its author has a unique and expressive writing voice.

Melanie for b2b

Complimentary copy provided by the publisher