To Walk in the Sun (Wiggons' School for Elegant Young Ladies - Book 1)

by Charles, Jane

  The woman pursed her lips and said no more.

  He turned to Miss Crawford. “You teach literature, correct?” He guessed given she was the one the girls referred to with regard to taking books from the library.

  “Yes, I do, as well as history. I also thank you for the use of your vast library.”

  He inclined his head and smiled. “It is my pleasure.”

  “Miss Morris, what do you teach?”

  “French and Latin,” she answered with a smile.

  At least those two subjects were not unusual. Well, perhaps the French, but certainly not the Latin.

  “If a student shows aptitude, I will also instruct them in Italian, Spanish or German. It is their choice, of course.”

  Vincent was amazed the woman could speak so many languages enough to teach them. Few men he knew spoke more than three. He turned to the owner of the school. “Mrs. Wiggons, do you instruct the young ladies as well?” Please let the answer be no, or at least a reasonable subject.

  “I train them in the proper running of a household, watercolors and embroidery. Though, in all honesty, we have very little time to spend on these lessons and are lucky to give them attention once a month, let alone weekly.”

  Finally, a sane teacher among the bunch. Well, besides Miss Morris and of course, Miss Crawford. But why did she encourage the other teachings in the first place. He shook the thought away. It was none of his business and why should it matter? It wasn’t as if he was going to marry any of the chits.

  He turned to Miss Pritchard. At least he believed she could be of use to him, at the moment. “Are you familiar with greenhouses?”

  Her eyes lit. “Oh yes, do you have one?”

  “It is in sore disrepair.”

  She scooted to the edge of her seat and bit her bottom lip as if he were telling an intriguing tale. He had never known anyone to get so excited about plants.

  “You have my permission to do what you will in the place. It certainly cannot suffer more than it has over the past year from lack of attention.”

  “Oh, thank you, Lord Atwood. This is the most wonderful opportunity.”

  Perhaps this may work to his advantage, provided the girls were quiet. He stood, glad to have the interviews concluded. “Now, if you will please excuse me. Mrs. Zobard and Wesley will see to your comfort and that of the girls. It is time I retired once again.”

  “It is barely one in the afternoon, Lord Atwood,” Miss Morris pointed out.

  He raised an eyebrow. How dare she question him?

  “Lord Atwood sleeps all day and does his work in the evening. Thus, the reason for the girls to remain down here during the day.”

  An “oh” formed on the younger ladies mouths, but thankfully they said no more.

  * * *

  Tess toured the guest rooms with Mrs. Zobard while the other teachers returned to the school to gather belongings and pack clothing. With a list in hand she began to assign the rooms.

  On the main floor there were a total for twelve rooms, but only eleven could be used. At least the beds were large enough that there could be two or three girls to a room.

  “The teachers can double, as can the students.” Tess stood in the middle of the hall trying to determine what she should do. “However, we can only sleep twenty-six or twenty-seven on this floor. ”

  “How many more are there?”

  “Between the remaining students and teachers, fifteen.”

  “Oh dear.” The housekeeper’s eyebrows shot up. “I had no idea there were so many girls.” She pursed her lips and turned a circle in the hall. “I have an idea.”

  “What?” Tess grew hopeful. For a moment she feared the girls would sleep four to a room. It was manageable, but terribly crowded, even with the large beds.

  “The nursery floor,” she exclaimed and turned to walk toward the end of the hall. “The stairs at the end here, the same ones the servants use to access the kitchen below, lead to the upper floor.”

  Another floor of rooms held promise and Tess followed the woman. The wooden door opened soundlessly onto a landing. Mrs. Zobard turned left and mounted the stairs. They lead to an open room. More of a sitting room, it appeared, with various pieces of furniture covered in cloths. Windows allowed sunlight in from both sides. “This is where the nurse and governess would relax at the end of the day,” Mrs. Zobard announced as she crossed the room to open another door and Tess continued to follow her.

  “I know it looks rather odd, but the upper floor had remained open after it was built, for storage, but one of the former ladies of the house, three generations ago I believe, did not want her children too close and the nursery floor was developed.”

  Tess was actually surprised the schoolroom and nursery had not been part of the original plan. Most houses usually kept the children up and out of the way of the household.

  “This is, or was, the school room.”

  Tess looked at the vast area. One wall ran the length and center of the room with doors opening to various chambers. The other, open area, contained bookshelves underneath the windows and a few tables and chairs. While there was plenty of room for the girls to sleep, there were no beds.

  Mrs. Zobard entered one of the open rooms. “I believe this is where the governess slept.”

  Tess peeked in. For a servant’s room, it was rather large with a nice double bed and dresser.

  “This is where the nurse slept,” Mrs. Zobard continued.

  The room she referred to was a duplicate of the one they had just viewed. Well, there were enough beds for four people to sleep. What of the other eleven?

  “What is at the end?” Tess indicated to the far wall, where another wall blocked off the remainder of the floor.

  “Oh, that is just storage.” Mrs. Zobard hustled forward to open the room.

  Tess stepped through. Dust motes danced in the air and reflected in the light coming through the end window. She turned around to take in the space. Two trunks sat against the wall. “Lord Atwood doesn’t appear to store much.”

  Mrs. Zobard laughed. “No, he is of the opinion that if it is not being used, it should be discarded or given away.”

  The efficiency of his attitude did not surprise her and she rather liked that. How many people did she know, or had known, kept items tucked away, gathering dust, or rotting for no other purpose than to have such items.

  Tess turned to the housekeeper. “There certainly appears to be adequate room.”

  “With the exception of the lack of beds.”

  Tess returned to the school room and sat down on one of the small chairs. What to do? Then an idea struck. “The beds at the school will be unused and have to go into storage. Would it be possible to move them here, into these rooms?”

  Mrs. Zobard tilted her head in thought. “I don’t see why not. It seems to be the perfect solution. I’ll send someone over now so that the furniture can be loaded.”

  Now that it was taken care of, Tess returned to the library where she set about planning where everyone would sleep and which rooms would be used for which lesson. She had originally assumed that Mrs. Wiggons would see to this task, but the woman wanted to supervise what was occurring at her school and left Tess in charge. The older teachers with Mrs. Wiggons supervising the removal of items from the house while Claudia and Natalie were gathering the girls to bring them back here and begin work on the vast estate.

  She had just finalized the sleeping arrangements when Natalie breezed through the door leading to a terrace, a beaming smile graced her lips and she flounced down onto a settee.

  “I take it you are pleased with the grounds,” Tess chuckled as she stood to walk over to join her friends.

  “So many plants, so many gardens.” A frown replaced her smile. “So much disrepair. Lord Atwood should be throttled for letting them run to ruin.”

  “I don’t think he views the gardens as a priority.”

  “For one who insists on placing flowers on his wife’s grave every night, he
should at least grow his own instead of stealing from the neighbors,” Natalie snorted.

  “Then you are doing him a good service, and that of the neighbors, in seeing that he has his own flowers from now on,” Tess laughed.

  Natalie turned, a thoughtful look on her face. “He is a rather odd gentleman.”

  “I am not sure what you mean.” Tess didn’t really want to gossip about the man who had given them refuge, but she was curious as well. Oh, she was far too curious for her own peace of mind, actually. She had yet to forget his strength, and how he held her, or she held him, during the storm. Nor could she erase the intense look in his eyes, or concern in the dark pools when he wiped the blood away from her face or gazed down at her when she awoke on the couch. But, forget she must. Attraction to any gentleman, or any man, was dangerous.

  “Come now,” Natalie answered in disbelief. “He never leaves his home, at least not in the light of day. Nor does he socialize. He has yet to accept an invitation to the local entertainments, and those are held at night. Is he above attending a local assembly?”

  “I am sure he has good reason.” Though Tess could not think of any. Still, one must not judge without having all the facts. Something she had come to practice herself. A lesson she learned too late.

  “What could those reasons possibly be?” Natalie sat up and turned to her. “Yes, his wife died, and it is tragic. But, he is a lord and should at least consider marrying again. He is in need of an heir and he isn’t getting any younger.”

  “How old do you suppose he is?” It was better to ask a question of reasonable inquiry, without it being too intrusive or mean.

  Natalie sat back again and played with a wayward curl. “I suppose he cannot be older than six and twenty, seven and twenty, perhaps.”

  “Then he isn’t so ancient that he need consider a wife at this juncture in his life. Being a gentleman, and titled, he has a good ten or possibly fifteen years before he needs to see to continuing his line.

  “Unlike us, who will be considered on the shelf in a few short years,” Natalie snorted.

  “Where we prefer to be, or at least I do.”

  “As do I,” Natalie agreed. “But, what of companionship? He must be lonely.”

  “He has a houseful of servants, and clearly he does not like to be bothered. I am not even sure why he asked us to stay here.”

  Natalie focused on Tess. “Not friendship companionship. The other kind of companionship.”

  Tess’ face grew hot. “Perhaps he has no need for the type of friendship you are describing.”

  “Then perhaps he is a vampire because I have yet to meet any warm blooded gentleman that didn’t need, how did you phrase it? Oh, yes friendship on a regular basis.” She stood and walked across the room to pull a curtain aside.

  “I would close that. You know his rules.”

  “He is sleeping, and don’t change the subject.” Natalie let the drapery drop. “Perhaps he has a local mistress, or maybe a maid.”

  “I am sure it is none of our business.” Goodness, it is warm in here.

  “I am not sure if I could resist, if he focused those midnight eyes on me.”

  “Stop! This is an inappropriate discussion.” Tess resisted the urge to fan herself and at the same time tried not to remember how mesmerizing his eyes were.

  “Mesmerizing, that is it,” Natalie announced.

  Tess’ face grew hotter. Had she spoken out loud? Oh dear.

  “Perhaps he is a vampire.” Her friend’s grin grew larger. “And he is going to use those intriguing eyes on each and every one of us, in the dark of the night. Well, most of you anyway. Don’t vampires need maidens? I suppose I am safe.”

  “Stop,” Tess insisted. “One of the girls could hear you and we already have enough troubles without dealing with their overwrought emotions, and imaginations, as it is.”

  Natalie slumped back on the settee and shrugged her shoulders. “Still, it is a wonder. One would think he would have at least one friend who came to call.”

  She knew her face must have gone white for now it was no longer hot, but cold. Atwood did have at least one friend that she knew of. How could she have forgotten Percer in all of this? She just placed herself in the most dangerous, or almost most dangerous, place to be. What if Percer decided to renew his friendship with Atwood? What if he called while they still resided here, before the school was done? What had she done by agreeing to this? What kind of danger had she just put everyone in? Herself? What of the reputation of the school? If she showed up here, Mrs. Wiggons need not bother rebuilding for she would be as ruined and possibly charged with harboring a fugitive.

  Tess placed a hand over her mouth and ran from the room, ignoring Natalie who called after her. She was going to be sick.

  “I need not deliberate; what I demand of thee, is which

  thou hast promised me – that which will prove my bliss. Or dost

  thou but mock me? if so, hence from my sight, lest I be

  tempted to lay my hand on thee.”

  Wake Not the Dead

  Johann Ludwig Tieck

  Chapter 8

  “Oh, please do be quiet,” Tess pleaded in a whisper. She stood just outside of Atwood’s door and knew he slumbered within. She could only hope that he was a sound sleeper.

  A headboard banged against the stairs. “Shhhh,” she admonished.

  The plan had seemed sound at the time. Move the belongings in and get the girls settled, all without Atwood realizing the disruption to his household. Once the rooms above were prepared, it would be harder to ask them to leave. Unfortunately, they were not even halfway completed and five pieces of furniture had banged on the hall outside his door.

  Something dropped on the floor above. Tess scooted around the servants carrying a bed and rushed up the stairs. An older man had one end of a wood frame and seemed strained by the weight, so much that she thought his eyes would pop out. Another man stood at the opposite end reciting words that made her blush. Perhaps the man had been a sailor prior to his employment within the household. Thank goodness the girls were not up here.

  The older man none too gently set his end of the bed on the floor and walked to the other where he picked up the footboard so the younger servant could retrieve his foot. The man hopped over and fell into a still cloth-covered seat.

  Tess rushed to his side. “Are you injured?”

  The younger man glared up at her and she took a step back.

  “I’ll find Mrs. Zobard, or a maid, to help you.” Tess rushed from the room before he said something she would regret.

  She waited at the top of the stairs while another item was maneuvered over the railing. Goodness, she never really realized how heavy the furniture was in the school. When they passed, she rushed down the stairs while they were clear and exited onto the main hall once again. A headboard fell against the wall. Just when she was about to admonish the servant for not being more careful, and to be quiet, the door of Atwood’s room flew open and hit the wall inside.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  All activity stopped and everyone turned to look at him. Tess wished she had not been one of them. His black hair was tussled and a curl fell over his left eye. He wore a deep maroon dressing gown, open at the chest but tied at his hips. At least the lower half of him was covered. The upper part was difficult enough to take in. She had never seen a man’s chest before and wondered if they were all as firm, almost sculpted, with a layer of dark hair that thinned toward the belly until a thin line disappeared into the robe, as if pointing in a sinful direction. He dropped his hands and folded them in front, where the V likely ended and leaned against the door frame. Her face was on fire and she pulled her eyes away to glance at his face.

  His gaze bore into hers and one eyebrow rose in question. She didn’t want to ask if it was to inquire about the noise, the furniture in the hall, or her opinion of his physique. Goodness, she needed to find some cool air, soon. I am sure I am overheated from the e
xertion, she lied to herself.

  “Lord Atwood, I am so sorry to disturb you.” She willed her eyes not to look below his face.

  “I thought I made myself clear that there was to be silence on this floor during the day.”

  Tess bit her lip to buy time to think of an excuse. “You were clear that you did not want the students on this floor during the day.”

  His other eyebrow shot up. “Miss Crawford, so that you are not confused in the future, let me explain.” He straightened and stepped from his room. Oddly, his hands remained folded in front of his person. “There shall be silence on this floor during all daylight hours. That goes for the servants, the teachers, the students and anyone else you may think they do not belong within the rules or one of the categories listed.” His voice rose with each word, make that syllable, and Tess found herself taking a step back. “In other words, anyone with a heartbeat and breath is not allowed on this floor during the day.”

  “I am very sorry, Lord Atwood. It will not happen again. I promise.”

  “See that it doesn’t.” He turned to step back into his room and stopped. He looked over his shoulder and focused on her, then the scene in the hallway, then back to her. “May I ask, what is going on? And why is there furniture in my hallway?”

  Tess rushed forward to explain. “There were not enough beds for all of us. The upper floor is practically empty so we brought the beds over from the school.”

  “How many more?” he groaned and dropped his head, no longer looking at her.

  She glanced to the servants for a number. One of them held up two hands, their fingers indicating the answer. “Eight.”

  His spine stiffened and she could hear him take a deep breath then exhale. She was glad she could not see his face, for she did not doubt its expression was enough to send the strongest of souls into hiding. “Hurry and be done with this move.” He slammed the door behind him.