The door opened, allowing in a gust of chilly air, and the coachman held out his hand for Cora. She grasped it tightly and descended the steps slowly and cautiously, breathing in air that smelled woodsy and fresh. When her feet landed on the ground, she paused to gather her wits about her. Would Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd be as pleased to see her as Lady Drayson and Lady Harriett had led her to believe? It seemed unlikely.
The door of the house opened, and out came a worn and serious looking man that Cora could only assume was the butler. Behind him, an elegant man and woman emerged, peering curiously down at Cora. The woman looked too much like the Countess of Drayson not to be her mother, and the man appeared kind and intelligent, just as Lady Drayson had described him.
Mrs. Shepherd released her husband's arm, picked up her skirts, and walked quickly down the steps to meet Cora. Warmth radiated from her expression. "You must be Miss Notley. A note arrived in the post from Lucy only yesterday, and we have been anxiously awaiting your arrival ever since. I cannot tell you how pleased we are to have you here, my dear."
Whether it was the arduous journey, the lack of sleep for too many days, or the kindness in which Cora had been received by complete strangers, she couldn't say, but she felt her composure slip away as tears began to pool in her eyes. How different would her life be if she had been born to parents such as these.
For Heaven's sake, stop acting like a peagoose, she told herself sternly, quickly wiping away her tears with the tips of her gloved fingers. She had a great many things to be grateful for—the Cavendish family, for one, and now the Shepherds. Cora needed to dwell on that and not wish for something that could never be.
"Please call me Cora. And forgive me for behaving like a silly school girl," she said to Mrs. Shepherd. "I cannot tell you how grateful I am for your kind welcome, especially considering you know nothing about me."
"I know enough," said Mrs. Shepherd. "Lucy and Harriett think the world of you, so why shouldn't we?"
Cora couldn't help but smile, and how good it felt. She could have hugged Mrs. Shepherd, but the lovely woman was already thanking Molly, the coachman, and the footmen for accompanying Cora on her long journey.
Mr. Shepherd added his thanks as well, telling the servants, "Geoffries will see that you are properly taken care of before you begin your journey home on the morrow."
"Thank you, sir," answered the coachman, dipping his hat.
Mr. Shepherd ushered his wife and Cora inside, and they adjourned to a beautiful drawing room decorated in burgundy and gold. On a circular table in front of the sofa, tea awaited them, along with a large tray filled with everything from thick slices of bread and preserves to ham and cheese and pastries. Cora's stomach rumbled in an unladylike way, reminding her that she had not eaten for hours.
"We already had our dinner, but I'm certain you must be famished," said Mrs. Shepherd. "Cook was good enough to bring up an assortment of food for you."
"It looks wonderful." Cora took a seat on a chair near the table. Her fingers itched to fill a plate, but she clasped them on her lap instead, not wishing to partake of the food in front of her hosts.
"I suddenly find that I am quite famished as well," said Mr. Shepherd, patting his stomach. "I hope you do not mind, Cora, if I fill a plate as well."
"Of course not." Cora laughed. "This is your home, after all. I am but a guest."
"A very welcome guest," he answered with a smile.
Mrs. Shepherd poured each of them some tea while Mr. Shepherd made expert work of filling a plate quite full. It was a wonder all the food remained on it.
"My goodness, you are hungry," said his wife.
"This plate is not for me." He looked at Cora and held out the plate. "Please be so good as to take this from me so my wife will cease teasing me."
"You'd prefer that she tease your guest, sir?" countered Cora as she accepted the plate most gratefully.
"It seems unfair, I know, but guests can get away with so much more than husbands. They can read a book whenever they wish, eat as much as they like, and refuse any and all invitations to dine elsewhere. I, on the other hand—"
"Are making me sound like quite the taskmaster," inserted Mrs. Shepherd.
"Not at all, my love," argued Mr. Shepherd. "I am only pointing out the difference in our characters. You are an exquisite butterfly who enjoys fluttering your wings about, and I prefer to remain inside my chrysalis with my books."
Mrs. Shepherd laughed and shook her head. "Chrysalis, indeed. Poor Cora. You probably had no idea you would be subjected to a lesson on the biology of insects. Please say you are not regretting your decision to come to us."
"Of course she isn't," insisted her husband. "I'll wager she couldn't find as diverting a conversation in all the drawing rooms in London."
"Considering I have never been in any London drawing room, I would have to agree." Cora sampled a small bite of a pastry as she watched her hosts. Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd reminded her of Lord and Lady Drayson, at least in the way they teased, smiled, and sat close to one another. Was this how husbands and wives behaved outside of the Notley home, or was it more of an exception than the rule? Her own parents had always bickered and found every excuse not to be in the same room as the other.
"You must prepare yourself," said Mr. Shepherd. "My wife has great plans for you, but the best part is that most of those plans involve you and not me. Really, Cora, I cannot tell you how glad I am that you have come."
Cora's gaze flew to Mrs. Shepherd's. "Plans?" she asked, suddenly anxious.
"Only as soon as you are feeling up to them," said Mrs. Shepherd. "I thought a shopping trip or two would be just the thing to start your new beginning. Lucy mentioned you would be traveling light and would be in need of some additions to your wardrobe."
Food that had looked delectable only moments before suddenly lost its allure. A shopping expedition? Did Mrs. Shepherd not know that Cora had no money for gowns or fripperies? Why would she need such things anyway?
"After that," added Mr. Shepherd, "there is sure to be afternoon teas, picnics, dinner parties, musicales, balls, and—" His wife's gentle hand on his arm quieted him.
"My dear, you appear quite pale," said Mrs. Shepherd. "Is everything all right?"
"Yes. I mean no. I mean…" Oh goodness, where did Cora even begin? She set her plate of food on the table and lifted anxious eyes to her hosts. "I do not know how much Lady Drayson has told you, but I did not come with the hope of being launched into local society. Rather, it is my wish that you might help me find a governess position in another household that will grant me at least a small measure of independence. I have very little money with me and do not want to be a burden on you for long."
Mrs. Shepherd leaned forward and placed her hand on Cora's knee. "My dear girl, we do not think of you as a burden at all. When Lucy's note reached us, we were thrilled at the prospect of welcoming you into our home, especially now that we have seen for ourselves how beautiful, kind, and refined you are. It is our greatest wish to aid you in finding a suitable young man of your choosing to marry so your parents will no longer have any power over you. How can we achieve that if you do not enter society? Surely you must realize that becoming a governess will lessen your chances of making a suitable match."
"I do realize that," said Cora. "But you must understand that I am but a tradesman's daughter and have no desire to marry above my station. The polite world is not my world, and I do not want to spend the rest of my life attempting to be someone I am not. I feel like a misfit already. You see, I was raised with the luxuries the upper class enjoy—more gowns than any young lady should need, servants and more servants, a room the size of a modest farmer's cottage, and any other convenience that money can buy. Rather than attending a girl's school like others in my station, my parents enlisted a governess and tutors to train me in everything from Latin to deportment. In other words, I was brought up to be a member of the upper class, yet I am not one of them. Do you not see what a quandary I am i
n? I feel like a lost kitten that has been taken in by thoroughbreds."
Mrs. Shepherd's brow creased in a look of concern and she nodded slowly. "I understand why you would feel the way you do. There was a time when I felt the same."
"Truly?" Cora asked, curious to hear more. She had never before met anyone who could even begin to understand. Lady Harriett had always made a valiant attempt, but how could she truly know what it was like when she had never lived in a world other than her own?
Mrs. Shepherd patted Cora's hand before retrieving the discarded plate from the table and handing it back. "It is late and we are keeping you from eating. I propose we continue this discussion tomorrow, once we are rested and have had some time to think on the matter a little more. For now, we will leave you to enjoy your food alone. As soon as you are ready, please ring the bell, and Katy will show you to your room."
"Thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd, for opening your hearts and home to me. I am most grateful."
They nodded and stood, moving towards the door, but Mr. Shepherd paused and looked back at Cora, his expression pensive. "I want you to know, Cora, that a stray kitten can fit in quite nicely with a brood of thoroughbreds. We've had one make a home in our stables only this past week."
Cora had to smile at that. "I think you are bamming me, sir."
Humor sparkled in his eyes. "I never bam, my dear, at least not about matters of any importance. I wish you a good night."
They walked out the door, leaving Cora to her food and to her thoughts. She leaned back in her chair and looked around the spacious room, thinking how lovely it must appear in daylight. She drew in a deep breath, noting the room smelled a little stuffy, as though it did not get used much. The scent comforted her. Cora's favorite rooms had always been those not frequented by the rest of her family.
Suddenly hungry again, she retrieved her plate and ate what was left on it, enjoying the various flavors and textures of the food. When only crumbs remained, she returned the dish to the table and pulled her weary body to her feet. It only took a few moments after ringing the bell for a young girl to enter the room. Though tall, she slouched as though trying to shorten her height. Her hair was a honey color and pulled back in a severe bun with a few strands escaping. She dipped into a quick curtsy and kept her gaze trained on the carpet. "You are ready to retire, Miss Notley?"
"You must be Katy," said Cora.
The girl risked a peek at Cora and offered a timid smile. "I am, Miss. Katy Thompson, at your service."
Her sweet nature put Cora immediately at ease. "Do you enjoy working here, Katy?"
The maid seemed surprised by the question, and her answer was slow to come. "Aye, Miss. I like it very much. Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd took me on after Mr. Ludlow… well, took me off, I suppose you could say. They've been good ter me, givin' me a second chance so ter speak."
"Who is Mr. Ludlow?" Cora asked.
"Oh. 'E be the nearest neighbor to the east, Miss. Owner of Tanglewood. Goes through servants like me ma does flour."
Cora frowned at the description. "Is Mr. Ludlow so cantankerous that servants cannot abide working for him for long?"
"Exactin' be more like," said Katy. "But cantankerous too, for sure. There be no second chances with him. Make one mistake, and you'd better start lookin' for work somewheres else. Only yesterday, 'e sent his 'ousekeeper packin'."
"Really?" Cora found herself intrigued. It sounded like a bit of a mystery.
The maid nodded. "I 'eard it from one of the footmen meself." A light blush colored her cheeks as she smiled. "'E's rather sweet on me, you see."
"He sounds like a very intelligent footman then."
"I dunno about that." Her blush deepened, and her gaze found the carpet once more.
Cora's gaze strayed to a painting on the wall, and she took a few steps closer, noting the details on the bronze vase and the delicate brush strokes used to create the flower petals. What sort of person painted this? It could have been anyone—an accomplished lady or a lowly artist. How interesting the art of painting was. For the upper class, it was a pastime—an accepted way for a lady to fritter away her time. For the lower class, it was a means of survival.
Which person placed more value in the skill? Cora wondered, thinking about her own skills and how useful they were, especially if she did not belong in society. Perhaps that was the crux of the matter. If she could only find something truly useful to do with her life, she might finally find her place in this world.
She turned around and faced the maid. "Tell me, Katy, how would one go about seeking a housekeeper position?"
Katy's brows drew together in a look of confusion. "You'd 'ave to apply to the butler, I suppose. But why would you want ter know such a thin'?"
Cora hesitated, realizing Katy would not understand. Very few could, she imagined. Not even her sister, Rose, seemed to find fault with the upstart ways of their parents. She didn't seem to find fault with anything. "I'm only curious, is all. I've never sought a position of any kind. You simply made me wonder how one went about it, is all."
"Be grateful you 'aven't 'ad ter do it, Miss. There ain't nothin' grand about workin'."
"Perhaps not, Katy. But I must say that I am grateful to you for showing me to my room. It has been a long and weary day for the both of us, I imagine."
"Of course, Miss." Katy curtsied once more. She took a few steps towards the door before adding, "What a lovely room it is, Miss. Mr. and Mrs. Shepherd wanted you to 'ave one of the grandest rooms in all the house."
Cora forced a smile to her lips, even though a heavy feeling of guilt weighed on her. She certainly didn't deserve a grand room anymore than she deserved to waltz into local society. Mr. Shepherd could say all he liked about kittens and thoroughbreds, but no matter how well they might get on in his stables, one was still a feline and the other a horse. There was no changing that.
"Cora, surely you're not serious." Mrs. Shepherd clutched her fork as she gaped at Cora from across the table during breakfast. "A housekeeper?"
Cora feigned a calmness she did not feel. Last night, when she had made the decision to pursue this course, it had felt right. But now, in light of day and with Mrs. Shepherd looking at her as though she'd gone mad, her confidence waned. "Yes, a housekeeper."
"But… why?"
"I understand that the neighboring estate—Tanglewood, I believe?—is in need of such a person, and as I am in need of a position, I thought the news providential."
"You are a tradesman's daughter, not a farmer's daughter. And an heiress at that," stated Mrs. Shepherd firmly. "Only think of what this could do to your reputation."
Cora had thought of that. Late into the night, as she'd mulled everything over in her mind, the likelihood of a ruined reputation had most certainly surfaced. In fact, Mrs. Shepherd had landed on the very thing that had convinced Cora to move ahead with this plan.
"I realize that it will likely ruin my reputation, but that does not sway me," answered Cora.
Mrs. Shepherd's eyes widened in astonishment. She glanced at her husband briefly, but he seemed absorbed in reading a letter he'd just received, so Mrs. Shepherd turned back to Cora. "You seem… pleased by the prospect. I cannot understand it."
"Can you not?" Mr. Shepherd finally spoke, setting his correspondence aside and turning his attention to his wife. "Should Mr. Notley discover the whereabouts of his eldest daughter, do you think Sir Gowen will be inclined to wed a girl who ran off to become a housekeeper rather than marry him? I'm certain even his pride has its limits. A daughter of a tradesman is one thing; a housekeeper quite another."
"Which is precisely the point I am attempting to make," answered Mrs. Shepherd. "My dear, if you follow through with this plan, no door in polite society will ever be open to you again."
"I understand." Cora refrained from adding that no door was open to her now.
Mrs. Shepherd pressed her lips together and carefully set down her fork. When she lifted her eyes to Cora's once more, they were fille
d with worry. "Do you also understand that it won't only be Sir Gowen you will discourage? It will be every other possible suitor?"
Cora nodded. "Yes. But sadly, the only type of suitor who will not be discouraged by my low connections will be those who want my father's wealth more than me. I do not wish for such a marriage." Especially not now that she had seen firsthand that happy unions existed.
"But not all men are like that," Mrs. Shepherd pressed. "I was once a seamstress, you know, and… well, I am not a seamstress any longer."
Cora's smile softened. "If only I could be as fortunate."
"You can be." Mrs. Shepherd directed a pleading look at her husband, who was now chewing on a thick slice of bacon as though nothing at all was amiss. When he caught his wife's look, he swallowed, set down his fork, and cleared his throat.
"I think it's a brilliant idea."
"What?" Mrs. Shepherd gaped at her husband, but he paid her no mind.
"Tell me, Cora," he said. "How much do you know about drying and pounding herbs?"
"Herbs?" Cora frowned. What did herbs have to do with anything?
"Do you know how to make preserves? Pastries? Do you enjoy distilling waters?"
"I, er…"
"What about maintaining household accounts, managing the maids and the cook, and provisioning everything from candles to linens?"
Cora could now see that he was pointing out her sorry lack of qualifications. Although his line of questioning unnerved her, she refused to let him dissuade her. She lifted her chin. "I have always had a firm grasp of numbers, sir, and as to the rest… well, I am a fast learner. I believe I shall get along nicely."
"Then we are agreed," he said, picking up his correspondence once more. "You will make an admirable housekeeper, I am certain. Mrs. Shepherd and I wish you very well indeed."
Not sure how to reply, Cora glanced at Mrs. Shepherd, noting that she did not appear quite so frantic any longer. The worry lines had vanished, along with any and all arguments. She settled back into her seat and picked up her fork to resume her eating.
The Rise of Miss Notley (Tanglewood Book 2) Page 2
