by Abby Ayles
Emma looked at Lydia, and the two women laughed.
“Farewell, Lydia,” Emma said, dabbing at her eyes with the handkerchief.
“Goodbye, Miss Baker,” Lydia said. “I wish you a safe trip.”
With one last embrace, Emma boarded the coach and waved a final farewell to her friend.
As the carriage departed, the weariness began to weigh on her. She thought perhaps she might close her eyes and take a brief nap as the carriage trudged along.
However, as the carriage pulled away from her home and headed down the country roads toward the earl’s homestead, the beauty of the scenery in the soft early morning light was breathtaking.
It looked to Emma as though she could see the entire world waking. Small animals were coming from their previous nights’ nests and safe spaces. The first of the sun’s rays seemed to be stretching, as if leisurely rousing from its slumber. Even the air had a crisp cleanness to it, swirled around softly by a gentle breeze.
Upon arriving at the estate, Emma’s mouth fell open. She had anticipated a grand estate, but nothing she could have pictured could have prepared her for this.
The main house—mansion—seemed to stretch on for miles. In the still early morning sunlight, the roof of the house appeared so tall that it disappeared out of sight into the clouds. The well-kept grounds were covered in bright green grass, elegantly trimmed shrubs and beautiful flowers.
From the carriage, Emma could see a stable in the distance, as well as part of what she was sure was a large, impressive garden. She could also see the corner of a smaller building, which was almost certainly a supply shed.
In truth, the earl’s estate was probably no more grandiose than that of many of London’s wealthy society, but she had never been to the home of one of the socially elite. To her, it looked like a palace straight out of a fairy tale.
The carriage coming to a halt shook Emma from her trance. She looked at her watch and realized she was almost a full hour early. She hoped that that would be alright with the earl. He had, after all, made such a point about her not being late.
As she exited the carriage and approached the intimidating front door, she began rehearsing her introduction and, should she need it for being so early, her apology speech.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, she raised her hand and grabbed the heavy brass door knocker. The weight of it caught her by surprise, and it slipped from her hand and landed with a loud thud against the thick door.
Startled, and more than a little embarrassed, she reached to grasp the knocker and knock properly this time. However, before her fingers touched the cool brass once more, the door opened.
Completely flustered, she stared at the sharply dressed butler who now stood in the doorway, fumbling for something to say.
The butler looked her over for a moment. Then, he smiled warmly at her.
“You must be Miss Baker,” he said.
“Yes,” she said, grateful for his kindness. “I am afraid I am rather early for my appointment with the Earl. I hope that is not a problem.”
The butler laughed gently.
“Not at all, Miss. Better early than late, especially when it comes to my lord,” he said.
For the briefest moment, Emma saw a different, unreadable expression on the butler’s face. Then, it was gone, and his smile had returned.
“It is a pleasure to meet you, Miss Baker. I am William Johns, Lord Ashfield’s butler. Please, come in. I will have the footmen see to your luggage shortly.”
Emma followed the butler inside, and her eyes widened. Had she been required to speak at that moment, she would have been unable.
The entryway of the mansion was even more impressive than the exterior had been. The wooden furnishings looked brand new and freshly polished. The carpet and tapestries were crisp shades of deep purple and dark green, and the portraits on the wall looked incredibly lifelike.
The butler led her to the drawing room, and she gave an audible gasp. All the furniture in the room looked newer still than the adornments in the entry and hallway.
The pianoforte was very large, and the shine on its rich, black surface was almost blinding. More purple and green tapestries hung pulled back from the windows to let in the beautiful early morning sun. The light pouring in gave the beauty of the room a surreal feeling.
“I will go tell my lord that you have arrived,” the butler said, but Emma barely heard him. She took a seat in the nearest chair, which was lush and soft as it appeared.
Realizing that she would be meeting her employer any moment, she pulled her gaze from the lavish room and stared at her lap, trying to compose herself. Again, she prayed that her evident poverty would not cost her the position she so desperately needed.
Just then, Emma heard the door to the drawing room swing open. She rose quickly and turned around just as a man with sandy blond hair entered the room, flanked by two children. Emma’s heart leaped into her throat.
The Earl of Ashfield was very handsome, his piercing blue eyes studying her carefully. She thought how tragic it was that a man so young had suffered such a tragedy as becoming a widower.
“Good morning, Miss Baker,” the Earl said, bowing politely.
Emma responded to the greeting with a deep curtsey.
“Good morning, Lord Ashfield,” she said. “Please, forgive me for being a bit too punctual.”
“I rather appreciate you arriving early,” he said. His voice was not unkind, but it was as cool as his letter, and his gaze was firm.
Wasting no time, the Earl nudged his children forward.
“I would like you to meet Winston, my seven-year-old son, and Rowena, my daughter. She is five,” he said.
Emma looked at the children, glad for a distraction from the Earl’s handsome features.
“Hello, Winston and Rowena,” she said warmly. “My name is Miss Baker.”
“We know,” Winston proclaimed proudly. “Father told us before you arrived.”
Emma smiled and looked at Rowena, who stood close to her brother, watching Emma silently. Emma was not put off by the children’s lack of enthusiasm. She could not begin to imagine what they had been through since their mother’s passing, and she expected that it might take some time for them to warm up to her.
“I apologize for my haste,” the Earl spoke up. “But I do have a meeting shortly, so I must be going.”
Rowena suddenly became very animated.
“Father, can you not stay and play a game of hide-and-seek with us?” she asked.
“Rowena, we talked about this,” the Earl said.
“Please, Papa?” she asked.
“Children, go to your room and wait for Margaret. Now,” he said.
Emma flinched at the abrupt coldness in the Earl’s voice, and some of her earlier sympathy for him faded. How could he be so harsh with his own children?
With sad expressions, the children trudged silently from the room. Neither of them spared Emma a glance. Her heart broke, and she bit her lip to keep from speaking her mind.
“If you will excuse me, I must take my leave,” the Earl said in that same tone. “Johns will have one of the maids show you to your room. Lessons will begin tomorrow, to give you time to get settled in.” With that, he turned and exited the room.
Stunned into silence, Emma followed the maid to the room that was to be hers. Her belongings were, indeed, waiting for her. After ensuring that Emma had what she needed, and informing Emma of the meal schedule, the maid left her to get settled in.
With little to do until the following morning, Emma began unpacking. As she did so, she thought back to the harsh way the Earl had spoken to his daughter.
She had thought him quite the ogre for it, but she thought it might have been born from the stresses and grief over losing his wife.
She silently resolved to do anything she possibly could to help the family, beyond her official capacity as a governess.
Chapter 4
Francis considered his brief encounter wi
th the new governess as he rushed from the drawing room.
The meeting he had claimed to have was fictional. He had simply wished to test Emma and see how well she would follow his instructions which, as it turned out, she followed better than he had expected.
At first, Francis had thought she was being sarcastic when she had mentioned arriving so early. One look at her face, however, had discerned her sincerity and, he believed, slight embarrassment.
Francis thought that she must have feared to seem desperate by showing up so early, but he was in no position to judge her for her desperation. He himself was quite desperate to hire a governess and, in truth, he likely would have hired her had she been late.
Since he needed to make himself scarce around the house for the next couple of hours, he called for a carriage and took a trip to the spot at the nearby park which was his and Caroline’s favorite place to picnic.
Upon his arrival at the park pond, Caroline’s memory quickly overtook his thoughts about the new governess.
Having had to leave the house without a picnic cloth to spread out onto the ground, Francis took a seat on a large rock at the water’s edge. He stared out over the pond’s surface, images of him and Caroline picnicking by the water, holding hands and watching the children play nearby flooding his mind.
He closed his eyes and allowed himself to get lost in the memories for a moment. He could almost hear Caroline’s soft, sweet laugh and her sigh as she admired the beauty of the park pond at sunset.
When Francis opened his eyes, there were tears in them. He silently said a grateful prayer that he was completely alone in this corner of the park.
His thoughts drifted again to the governess. She certainly was not what he had expected when he began his search for a governess. He had envisioned a tall, wiry spinster type, not a young, curvy young woman.
Francis had noticed Emma’s plain, worn dress, but that had been of no consequence. He had hardly expected his new governess to be wealthy.
Briefly, Francis wondered if Caroline would have approved of her. Then, of course, the idea occurred to him that, if Caroline were still alive, there likely would have been no need for a governess so soon.
He had to resist a bout of resentment toward the governess. It was not her fault that he did have the need for her. At that moment, however, her being mandatory did not make the situation any less agitating for him.
Francis allowed his thoughts to continue in this fashion for about another hour. At last, he withdrew his watch from his coat pocket and checked the time. He had been at the park for about an hour and a half.
He remembered that he needed to tell the governess that he expected lessons to begin at 8 a.m. sharp every morning. He also figured that he should ensure that Miss Baker was settling in alright.
With a sigh, he walked back to where the carriage had parked, and headed home.
Francis was relieved to see that everyone seemed to be occupied when he arrived back at the mansion. For a moment, he considered simply asking the butler or a maid to check in on Miss Baker. Yet deep down, he knew how inhospitable that would be.
He trudged up the stairs and headed for the room he had designated for the governess. It was still well before noon, so she would not yet be having lunch.
The door to the room was open and, as he expected, the governess was inside, putting away her things.
Francis rapped on the open door. He had to bite his lip to stifle a chuckle when the governess jumped and dropped a book that she was holding. She whirled around to face him, her hands covering her reddening cheeks.
“Forgive me, Lord Ashfield,” she said, bending down to pick up the book. “You gave me a start.”
Francis smiled, again resisting the urge to laugh.
“I apologize,” he said. “That was not my intention, I assure you.”
“It is alright,” she said. She placed the book on one of the bookshelves and then turned her attention back to Francis. After a few moments, the governess cleared her throat.
“Was there something you require of me?” she asked.
Only then did Francis realize that he had been looking her over, studying her carefully. He shook his head.
“I merely wanted to make sure that the room was to your liking, and that you had everything you needed,” he said.
Her face brightened so quickly that it caught Francis by surprise.
“Oh yes, thank you,” she said, her voice warm and enthusiastic. “It is wonderful.”
Francis looked again at the governess’s dress and realized that she had likely never seen such a comfortable, well-furnished house, or room, for that matter.
He felt a twinge of sympathy for the woman. It was clear that she was in need of money, and he was glad that he was able to hire her and help her in that regard.
“Good,” he said. “I trust that the staff informed you about mealtimes?”
“Yes,” she said.
“Wonderful,” Francis said. “Will you be prepared to begin lessons at 8 a.m. tomorrow morning?”
The governess’s eyes widened, but she nodded.
“Yes, my lord, I shall be ready,” she said, sounding anything but.
“Very well,” he said, bowing. “Then I shall take my leave.” He turned and withdrew to his study.
***
The next few days passed in a hectic blur, and for that, Francis was grateful. Business kept him away from home much of the time, and when he was there, more work kept him occupied in his study.
However, as he passed by the room in which she was giving the children their lessons one day, he noticed that, when she asked the children a question about the topic she was discussing, they remained silent.
It seemed to him that the children were not taking to her as he had hoped. He considered staying and listening a moment but decided instead to speak to the governess about it later.
That evening, he took dinner in his study. The door was open a crack, and he could hear the sound of giggling, and a voice he did not quite recognize. Startled, Francis rushed out of the door to see what was happening.
He had only taken a couple of steps down the hallway when he realized that the sounds were coming from the children’s bedroom. Another bout of giggling, louder this time, came drifting from the open door. He tiptoed to the door and listened.
“Oh, silly fox,” the strange-sounding voice said. “Whatever are you doing now?”
Francis peeked his head inside the room to find Rowena sitting on the floor at the feet of the chair in which the new governess sat. Winston was sitting in a chair a few feet away, silent but seemingly enthralled.
Rowena was the first to spot him.
“Father!” she said, hopping up from her spot on the floor to hug her father.
Francis stood stiffly as his daughter wrapped her arms around his waist.
Winston also rose, but he did not approach his father.
“Did you come to read with us, too, Father?” Winston asked.
“I just came to remind Miss Baker that your bedtime is promptly in ten minutes,” Francis said, feeling a little guilty about his little lie.
“Are you sure you will not join us?” the governess said. “I am sure the children would love it if you did.”
Francis glared at the governess for speaking so boldly out of turn and attempting to undermine him, especially in front of the children. Not wishing to make a scene in front of them either, however, he said nothing about it.
“I have work,” he said, walking away from the room before any of them could argue, but not before seeing the indignation on the governess’s face.
Over the next few days, the governess made no attempts to mask her attempts to get Francis involved in Winston’s and Rowena’s activities.
Each night, she would approach him and ask him to join her in her nightly bedtime story reading. And each time, he declined.
He began to recognize the expression that came over her face whenever she was about to drop another hint
about him spending more time with the children. He ignored every single one and began doing his best to avoid her.
As time progressed, she began attempting to corner him about it during the day, to the point where he had to make himself scarce at all times. He would stay in town much longer than business required, and he spent even more time in his study until he was sure she had retired for the evening.
At last, he decided to address this matter by speaking to the governess directly and privately.
