The Sisters Mederos

by Patrice Sarath

  “Miss Mederos, please sit,” Mrs TreMondi said. She had scarcely an accent. “The children wanted to meet you. I hope you don’t mind.”

  She gestured Yvienne to a spindly little chair upholstered in pale blue and embroidered so finely that Yvienne hesitated and sank down delicately, lest she despoil the design with her rude bottom.

  “I don’t mind at all,” she said. “I find it entirely understandable.” In her own case, she had never met any of her governesses before they were engaged; Alinesse believed in the fait accompli. Had she been able to meet some of her governesses in advance, perhaps she would have at least known what to expect and not be as disappointed. May I keep from disappointing my charges.

  “This is Dubre, my youngest. He’s six. And my next youngest, Idina, who is eight, and my eldest, Maje, who is twelve.”

  “How do you do?” Yvienne said.

  “How do you do?” the children chorused obediently.

  “Very well, thank you,” Yvienne said. “What do you wish to know of me?”

  “Do you teach math?” Dubre demanded.

  “Yes, I do. It’s my favorite subject.”

  He wrinkled his nose, and so did the girls.

  “Our last teacher said that we weren’t very good at math,” said Idina. “I admit it was hard to understand.”

  “Then I’ll take care to ensure that you do understand before we go on to the harder lessons,” Yvienne said.

  “What else do you teach?” Dubre asked.

  “I teach writing and penmanship and history, geography, and cartography. We’ll read books about all sorts of exciting things.” She remembered the fire wagon in the foyer. “Have you ever learned about the Fire of Port Saint Frey?”

  “No! When did it happen? Did all the buildings burn down?” Dubre practically jumped out of his seat.

  “One hundred years ago. That was before we had fire brigades, and many of the wooden buildings did burn down. That’s why most of the buildings are made of stone and brick now.”

  “And there was another fire just two nights ago,” Dubre said, completely beside himself with excitement. “I heard the bells and I could see the smoke from the window.”

  Yvienne maintained her expression. “It must have been very exciting. And fortunately, the citizens rang the bell and the fire brigades came as soon as they could. Because of that, the fire was put out and the city was saved.”

  “Dubbi loves fire wagons,” Mrs TreMondi explained. “Anything that makes a loud noise, actually.”

  “Do you teach art? And music?” Maje said. She sounded hopeful.

  Yvienne chose her words carefully. “I am no artist, but I have learned from all of my governesses and I think I can direct your study. And I have not had a fortepiano in many years, but I can set aside time for you to practice your music. But if – if your mother is willing to overlook my deficiency in that regard, perhaps a music teacher would be the best thing if you are very eager.”

  “Oh, but we–” Maje stopped, glancing at her Mama. Mrs TreMondi had a rueful expression. “What she means, Miss Mederos, is that we have not been able to engage a music teacher in all of Port Saint Frey. I had rather hoped that you would be able to teach Maje, as she has a prodigious talent.”

  “I see,” Yvienne said, who thought she did see. “And I wish, very much, that I were more proficient. But I can’t misrepresent my skill.”

  “What else can you teach?” Mrs TreMondi asked.

  “Vranz and Corish, and history. I have a special interest in navigation and cartography.” She added, “And if your mother and father agree, I can stay over on fine nights and teach astronomy.”

  The children gasped with delight. “Papa has the most extraordinary telescope!” Idina cried. “I admit that I am a little frightened to use it, for it is quite dear and Papa is most protective of the lenses. But it must be wonderful to see the stars and planets quite close by.”

  Yvienne remembered her own telescope with a pang. This job wouldn’t be so bad after all, if she could have a telescope, as well as an excuse to spend nights away from home.

  Mrs TreMondi was laughing. “A young lady with an interest and a talent for astronomy! I can tell already you will be a great favorite. As for my husband, I am sure I can prevail upon him to let you tutor the children in astronomy.”

  “Mama, that’s everything except for the music!” Maje cried.

  “It is, it is. I think Miss Mederos is our one. Now, would a salary of ten guilders a month be sufficient? As you aren’t living in, I am told it would be fair.”

  “Quite sufficient,” Yvienne assured her. In fact, it was paltry, but she would tell her parents it was twenty guilders a month and supplement with the proceeds from her other endeavor. “When would you like me to start?”

  “Next month,” Dubre said with supreme self-assurance. “Because the month has already started, so you should come next month.”

  “If he had his way, school would always be next month,” Mrs TreMondi said wryly. “But as it happens, Dubbi, Miss Mederos will be teaching your sisters, not you. You will go to Port Saint Frey Academy.”

  The sisters looked at each other, and Dubre went from mischievous to mulishly stubborn. He didn’t say anything but he squirmed out of his mother’s embrace and turned his shoulder to her.

  Maje said hopefully, “I don’t mind if Dubre has lessons with us.”

  “But your father wants him to enter the academy, so that’s that.” Mrs TreMondi said it lightly, but there was tension in her voice. “Not to disappoint Dubbi, but could you start tomorrow? It has been so long since the children had a teacher.”

  “I would be happy to,” Yvienne said. “And while Dubre is waiting to go to the academy, he can take lessons with us.”

  “That won’t be necessary,” Mrs TreMondi said, and now there was frost in her voice. Don’t meddle, that tone said, and Yvienne reddened. But the Port Saint Frey Academy, though it was known for rigor and discipline, was the worst possible fate for little Dubre with his silvery brown curls and brown skin. The other boys would eat him alive.

  Mrs TreMondi rose to her feet and held out her hand. Yvienne took it and curtseyed again. Mrs TreMondi rang a little bell. “Tomorrow, then. Half past seven?”

  “Yes, madam,” Yvienne said, mindful of Mathilde’s deferential address. “Good-bye, children.”

  “Good-bye,” the girls chorused. Dubre kept his shoulder turned toward his mother.

  Mrs Rose appeared in the doorway. Yvienne followed her out, willing herself not to look back. “There. I knew you would get the position as soon as I saw you. I thought, she’s the one. It’s good that you’re young – the girls will like that.”

  Hayres the butler held open the door for her, and gave her a stern look. “Tomorrow,” he began.

  “The servants’ entrance,” she agreed.

  Yvienne was aware of an odd mixture of exhilaration and oppressive anticipation when Hayres closed the door behind her, leaving her alone at the impressive entrance of the TreMondi home. She had done it – she had gotten engaged as a governess. Yet she was entirely aware of the nearness of her family home, situated further up the Crescent, toward the most exclusive homes at the top of the steep cobblestoned hill. As she joined the foot traffic at the end of the drive, she couldn’t help but look up the hill. It was a fine day; she could see the rooftop of her childhood home. It was but the work of a few moments to walk up and see it. The pull was a powerful one. She had stayed away ever since she and Tesara had returned from Madam Callier’s, not wanting to pour salt on the wound.

  Yvienne struggled, as she stood on the sidewalk, pretending to be absorbed with tying her bonnet strings, until something broke inside her, and she made her decision.

  Not yet, she told herself. The next time I enter the Mederos home, it will be as her rightful owner. With her bonnet firmly tied, she continued on her way.

  On such a fine day the street was full of traffic. Men and women, coaches, litters – everywhere peop
le walked out on their business or at their leisure. If anyone took notice of her, she doubted they would recognize her as she watched with her back to the fine stone wall that marked the TreMondi property. Anyway, she wore a nondescript dress of faded blue, a shapeless cloak, and a bonnet that shaded her face. Yvienne was invisible and unnoticed.

  On the north side of the thoroughfare, fine houses marched steadily up the Crescent, their imposing facades facing the harbor. Across the cobblestone street, there were no buildings, only scrub trees and rocks at the top of a cliff plunging down toward the sea. Here and there some merchants had cut down the majestic pine trees that blocked their view, and even set out benches or small gazebos, the better to take in the sweeping vista. There were also narrow rocky trails, little more than goat or deer tracks that led down to the rocks jutting out from the sea. A girl had to be careful or she could turn an ankle or worse, were she to try to walk those trails in dainty kid boots.

  Once those goat tracks had been trod by men wearing hobnailed boots and bearing barrels of bounty from the sea. Three generations ago, wreckers had used the sea caves at the bottom of the cliff for moving loot from foundered ships – ships that a well-placed lantern on the rocks had lured to their disaster. Yvienne was minded of the old Port Saint Frey saying: Bandits to ballrooms in three generations. The rough forebears of today’s genteel merchants had won their fortunes by means most foul. Even the Mederoses had more than a few skeletons in their closet – or pistols in false-bottomed chests, she thought.

  It was time to make her ancestors proud. Yvienne cast a look behind her, saw a break in the crowd, and slipped down the trail toward the rocks below.

  Almost immediately she was plunged into a different world. The noise of traffic from the carts, carriages, and litters was subdued. Instead she heard the crashing waves and the lonely cries of the gulls. She picked her way carefully, hugging the rocks to avoid detection from above.

  Finally, Yvienne stood on the shore, perspiring and eager. Across a small inlet she could see where the cliffs curved around, and there – a dark portal. At high tide she would have to swim to reach it, but for now, she could wade. Yvienne picked up her skirts and waded out into the froth. It was cold, but not bitterly so, as it was sun-warmed in the shallows. She was wet to her waist by the time she reached the cave, and ducked inside. There was enough light from the cave mouth to let her see what she had, and Yvienne smiled, all the time making a mental inventory of what she needed to create a staging area.

  “Oh yes,” she said, with immense satisfaction. “This will do. This will do quite well.”

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  True to her promise to Hayres, the next morning Yvienne walked round to the servants’ entrance at the TreMondi townhouse at seven of the clock sharp, carrying her satchel filled with schoolbooks, foolscap, and paper. She had no doubt the TreMondi schoolroom was well supplied, but these books were her old friends. She had hidden them from Madam Callier. They were worn, dog-eared, and stained, but they gave her courage.

  The housemaid opened the door. She was wide-eyed, scarcely older than fifteen and didn’t stop chatting from the moment Yvienne introduced herself as she led her to the kitchen.

  “I’m Sienne. The family is still at breakfast, and the master said that you should be shown to the kitchen and wait for Mrs Rose. Do you need to eat? If I may say, you look rather slender. Was that too forward? Mrs Rose says I’m too forward and to mind my manners, because you’re quality, but you’re a governess now, so if you don’t mind my saying, I’m hoping you won’t stand on ceremony and put on airs, because I could use a friendly face in the house. I’ve only been in service for six months myself. I used to be at the Havartás but old prune face didn’t like the chatter. Fine by me – the work goes faster when you can talk, and I was happy to find another position. The work is hard but at least I get paid for it – Mam lets me keep a half-guilder out of my wages and I can do what I like with it. Do you enjoy children? You must, if you are going to be a governess. They’re all sweet, even if they’re–” she dropped her voice “–half Chahoki. My Mam didn’t want me to come to work here, but that was silly. People are people. Mam says I should be frightened, but I don’t think so. After all, master married her, and she’s rather lovely. So, what do you think?”

  Yvienne opened her mouth to reply but was at a loss as to where to start. Fortunately, she didn’t have to. Sienne led her into the kitchen.

  “Mrs Rose, here she is. She’s right on time. I told her the family is at breakfast and you wanted her first.” Sienne then stage-whispered to the housekeeper, “She’s rather quiet. I hope that’s all right for a governess.”

  “It’s quite all right, Sienne,” said the housekeeper. “Please help Jenine with the laundry, will you? Thank you, dear.” When the maid hurried off, Mrs Rose took a steadying breath. Yvienne bit her lip to keep from laughing. It would not do at all to make Mrs Rose think she thought they were in any way equal or above Sienne. Perhaps I’ll grow tired of the constant chatter, she thought, but Sienne was a sweet girl, and for now it was refreshing.

  “Welcome. Miss Mederos,” Mrs Rose said, “have you eaten? Would you like a cup of tea, to give you strength for your charges?”

  “Thank you, Mrs Rose. I broke my fast at home. Do you wish me to wait here or should I take up my place in the schoolroom?”

  “Oh, the schoolroom. I’ll take you there myself and show you around the place. That way you can get the lay of the land. You brought supplies, I see.”

  Yvienne patted the satchel. “Some old favorites. I am sure the family is well-placed with schoolbooks.”

  “I think so, but if you find anything is missing, we can order more.”

  Yvienne followed Mrs Rose to the main part of the house. She could hear the distant, polite conversation of the family in the breakfast nook, and felt a twinge of nostalgia. The housekeeper gave her a tour up the stairs, pointing out the family wing, the grand suite and the offices, and up the next flight to the schoolroom. As with most of the Crescent townhouses, the house was four stories – kitchen below stairs, and the schoolroom and attics at the top.

  Mrs Rose swung open the door. The TreMondi schoolroom was very well appointed. There was a large, scarred table in the center of the room, a cheery fire giving off a comforting warmth, a bookcase with schoolbooks, slates, and puzzles, a globe, and several maps. Yvienne took it all in, walking over to the brightly washed windows tucked under the eaves. The view was stunning – she overlooked the wilderness across the street, and this high up she could see out to the harbor and beyond to Nag’s Head. Whiteheads rolled on a brisk sea, seabirds soared, and the spiky masts of the merchant vessels struck at the sky.

  For a moment, her homesickness deepened. She took a breath, acknowledged it, and fixed a bright smile on her face as she turned back to Mrs Rose.

  “It’s perfect,” she said. “I’ll prepare today’s lessons for the girls.”

  Mrs Rose nodded. “I’ll bring up a mid-morning lunch.” She left her alone, which was as well, because the tears that pricked at her eyes now threatened to fall. Yvienne hastily forced herself to recover, because she heard footsteps running up the stairs, and the children burst in, including Dubre. He was dressed in his Academy uniform of short pants and a blue coat. The children burst out excitedly.

  “You’re here! How do you do, Miss Mederos? Are we going to have a lesson right away? What are you going to teach my sisters?”

  Yvienne was laughing as she tried to contain their enthusiasm. Even Maje was excited, although she was trying hard to maintain a demure demeanor. Yvienne tried to quell her own butterflies as she faced her first class.

  “Good morning, children,” she said. “Yes, I have morning lessons planned and I can’t wait to get started.”

  “Haha!” Dubre chanted. “You have to go to school right now. I get to walk with Papa.”

  At that moment Mr and Mrs TreMondi came in. Yvienne took a step forward, hand outstretched, then recovered he
rself awkwardly and curtseyed.

  “Miss Mederos,” Mr TreMondi said. He was perhaps three-and-thirty, a handsome, well-built man with dark hair and dark eyes. His face was fair, and she could see a resemblance to him in his children. “Interesting. Interesting. I have heard good reports. An early start, and I hope to see good progress in my girls. You will report to me and to Mrs TreMondi on their progress. Every day at first, and then, weekly. We shall see how we get on together, hmmm?”

  “Yes, sir,” Yvienne said. Something crossed his face, and she felt a moment of unease. What had flickered in his countenance? She turned to Mrs TreMondi, to include her in the conversation. “I have set up lesson plans, ma’am, sir, if you wish to review. I had thought to first establish what the girls know so as not to leave any gaps in their education.”

  “Very well thought out,” Mr TreMondi said.

  “Yes,” Mrs TreMondi said. “I think we will leave the girls in your capable hands this morning, and then review this afternoon. Come Dubbi, let’s leave your sisters to their schoolwork.”

  “Let’s go, villain,” his father said. “Hop to, and no whinging. You’re a big boy now, not a crybaby.”

  Dubre tried to mask his fear. Maje patted him on his shoulder and gave him an encouraging nod, and the little boy followed his father out the door. Mrs TreMondi watched for a moment, and then she too left, closing the door behind her. Yvienne tried to keep her focus on her satchel, unbuckling the straps.

  When they had the schoolroom to themselves, she looked up at the girls and smiled. They were as apprehensive as she. Begin as you mean to go on, Yvienne told herself. She was here to teach the daughters of House TreMondi to be good, smart merchant girls. She could do that. “Shall we begin?”

  Yvienne had breakfasted early that morning before setting out to the TreMondi house. She was, however, absent from the family meal. The conversation that morning was all about Yvienne and her new posting.

  “I can’t like it,” Alinesse said, dabbing at her lips. “I wonder at the TreMondis. What do they mean by hiring our girl to teach their children?”