Brizecombe Hall

by Catherine E Chapman

  ~BRIZECOMBE HALL~

  By Catherine E. Chapman

  Published by Catherine E. Chapman at Smashwords

  Copyright 2011 Catherine E. Chapman

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  Thank you for downloading this free ebook. Although this is a free book, it remains the copyrighted property of the author, and may not be reproduced, copied and distributed for commercial or non-commercial purposes. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com, where they can also discover other works by this author. Thank you for your support.

  Chapter 1

  “You will come each day to instruct them.”

  “But not on the sabbath.”

  “Of course. Have you any objection to that arrangement?”

  “No Sir.”

  “We shall see you Monday week then – well, you shan’t see me; Mrs Travers will introduce you to your pupils.”

  “Very well, Sir.”

  “You may go.”

  Ann Rhys was escorted from Mr Brindley’s study by Mrs Travers. They walked along the hall in silence, Ann still anxious from receiving her new master’s strict instructions. “Don’t let the Master upset you,” Mrs Travers said, once they were at the great door of the house. “Be assured, his bark is worse than his bite,” and she smiled.

  “He says you will introduce me to Christina and John.”

  “And that I will do,” Mrs Travers told Ann. “They’re good children. You’ll not be unhappy here, Miss Rhys.”

  Ann walked away from Brizecombe Hall, following the long, straight drive that rolled out before it. Partway along, she turned to survey the frontage of the grand house. She counted thirteen windows on the upper level alone. Casting her gaze to the ground floor, Ann was certain she saw a curtain twitch at the window of what must be Mr Brindley’s study, where she and he had conversed less than five minutes before.

  This was a world apart from the nearby village where Ann’s father was minister. When Mr Brindley had approached the Reverend Rhys, asking if he were willing to let Ann tutor his son and daughter, her father had agreed, hoping this would encourage the wealthy landowner to increase his charitable contribution to the poor parish. Having spent time in Mr Brindley’s company today, Ann had little faith that her father’s hopes would be fulfilled.

  “Reading, writing and arithmetic, they have both been taught,” Mr Brindley had informed her. “You need not concern yourself with the rudimentary points of their education. They are both bright children, you will soon discern. You will concentrate not only upon the delivery of moral instruction, but on the acquisition of French and the understanding of geography and history. You know French?” he had asked her.

  “A little, Sir.”

  “I am aware of your limitations. Your father has explained that, unlike your sisters, you are not a trained governess. You will impart to my children what knowledge you have in these subjects.”

  “I will do my best, Sir,” Ann had vowed.

  “And you yourself may, perhaps, benefit from the study you undertake with my son and daughter.”

  “I do desire greater knowledge, Sir,” Ann had professed.

  “Good.”

  In all his references to John and Christina, Mr Brindley had shown no fatherly affection. Ann’s own father was incapable of talking of she and her two sisters without conveying his love of them and something of each of their personalities. But Mr Brindley’s cold appraisal of his children’s attainments and merits had left Ann with no sense of them as individuals.

  Maybe the loss of his wife –their mother– had resulted in his coldness? Ann couldn’t help but reflect that her own father had sustained such a loss, with a starkly contrasting outcome. But Mrs Travers seemed to feel some warmth towards her master. Could this be without reason?

  Ann finally reached the end of the long drive. She turned again and looked back at the Hall, too far away now to tell if anybody watched her from its windows. She turned back and headed along the rough track that led to the village.

  Chapter 2

  Ann’s week was spent preparing lessons for her new pupils. She selected books from her father’s library and talked with him at length to draw up a suitable programme of study for Christina and John.

  “You shall, of course, have access to the full range of instruction available in our library here,” Mr Brindley had told her. “Upon the commencement of your post, John and Christina themselves will show you the many volumes from which you –and they– may profitably read. Should you consider there to be particular texts of value to your studies, you will, of course, pass details of these to Mrs Travers and I shall see that such titles are acquired.”

  It had seemed, from everything Mr Brindley had said to Ann, that he would have nothing to do with her once her duties at Brizecombe commenced. Something in his manner had suggested he didn’t want to see her. Did it embarrass him to employ the minister’s daughter? If that was the case, why was he doing it?

  Lying in her narrow bed the night before she was due to go to the Hall to meet her charges, Ann reflected upon her week. She’d worked tirelessly preparing tutorials for Christina and John but, if she was honest, utmost in her mind throughout the many hours of reading, noting and discussing matters with her father, had been thoughts of Mr Brindley.

  Ann couldn’t sleep. She climbed out of bed and opened the shutters of the small window of her room. Looking out through the leaded panes, across the garden of the parsonage, Ann could see in the moonlight the edge of the moors that led eventually to Brizecombe Hall. It was the clearest of nights and the moon was full.

  Ann heard a horse whinny and saw the shadowy figure of a rider on horseback. The horse reared and then turned and galloped away in the moonlight. Ann discerned the rider’s tall hat and cloak but nothing more. She wondered whether she had seen a phantom, so brief had been the duration of the rider’s stay once she’d pulled back the shutters.

  Getting back into bed, shivering with cold, Ann clung to her pillow. Her thoughts returned to Mr Brindley. Feelings stirred inside her that were new and strange; feelings she couldn’t communicate to her father. Ann wished that Jane and Mariah were here. If they’d been at home she would have confided in them, older and wiser as they were. But as it was she could only write and she dare not commit her feelings to paper.

  Chapter 3

  “Master John and Miss Christina, allow me to introduce Miss Rhys,” Mrs Travers announced.

  “Is she our new governess?” asked Miss Christina.

  “Well,” said Mrs Travers, “your father has asked Miss Rhys to instruct you in various subjects–”

  “So she is our governess,” said Master John.

  “Not in the way that Miss Henley was your governess,” Mrs Travers corrected.

  “Explain,” Christina demanded.

  “Your father takes the view that you are older now,” Mrs Travers began. “You no longer need,” she hesitated, “mothering–”

  “We have no mother,” Christina informed Ann, plainly.

  “I know and I am very sorry,” Ann replied.

  “Father sent Miss Henley away because she grew too fond of us–” said John.

  “Master John, you are not to speculate on your father’s motives,” Mrs Travers cautioned.

  “Will Miss Rhys play with us?” Christina asked.

  “Miss Rhys will deliver instruction in theology, French, geography and history, in accordance with your father’s wishes,” Mrs Travers stated.

  Ann saw Christina and John exchange a disappointed glance.

  Ann told Mrs Travers that her most urgent need was to explore the library and that Mr Brindley had expressed a wish that the children should introdu
ce her to his collection of books. “Very well,” Mrs Travers said.

  The library was a huge room, clad on every wall, from floor to ceiling, with bookcases, each one of them heaving with tomes. Ann could hardly believe her eyes. Mrs Travers left her alone with her charges to investigate.

  “Now children,” Ann began, “I want you to select for me one book that you would like to read from every shelf of every bookcase.” She saw their eyes light up. “You have ten minutes to do so. Begin!”

  John and Christina excitedly scoured the lower shelves for their chosen volumes. It was the intrepid John who first reached for the ladder to explore the higher regions. But it didn’t take long for Christina, who had a competitive streak –Ann could see already– to realise this gave her brother an advantage. “My turn with the ladder! My turn with the ladder!” she insisted.

  “Yes, John,” Ann instructed, “you must bring your books down and let your sister choose now.”

  John reluctantly descended and Christina gleefully scaled the rungs, going right to the top of the ladder and then turning her head and looking, triumphantly, down at them. She laughed out loud.

  The heavy dark-wood door opened. “Christina, come down at once!” ordered Mr Brindley.

  Christina swiftly did his bidding.

  “Children, you will sit down and read in silence. Miss Rhys, I wish to speak with you in private.”

  Ann walked across the room, hearing only the sound of the hem of her full skirt brushing against the rich carpet. She didn’t dare look him in the eye as she passed through the doorway where he stood, holding open the door. Once she’d left the room Mr Brindley said to the children, “Not one word out of either of you, you understand?”

  “Yes Father,” they replied in solemn unison.

  Mr Brindley closed the door. “My study,” he said to his governess.

  Passing by him through the doorway, Ann had noticed how very tall Mr Brindley was. The first time they’d met he’d been sitting at his bureau so she’d formed no impression of his height.

  Walking down the hallway, Mr Brindley overtook Ann to open the study door for her. Ann resented that his cold disapproval made her feel diminished in ways other than stature, as she brushed her skirt past his trouser leg.

  He didn’t invite her to take a seat. He himself did not sit down. “Miss Rhys,” he began abruptly, “I am employing you to instruct my children; not turn them into tearaways.”

  “I only asked them to select their favourite volume from each shelf–”

  “Was it necessary for Christina to climb a ladder?”

  “I think she enjoyed it.”

  “Miss Rhys, my daughter will one day be a lady. She will move in circles in which her conduct will be scrutinised by those upon whom her future fortunes depend. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes.”

  “My son will be a gentleman. Of course, he will soon be sent away to school, but, so long as he is educated here, I will see that he is suitably prepared for the serious work that lies ahead–”

  “But they are still children, Sir–”

  “Did I permit you to speak?”

  For the first time Ann looked directly into Mr Brindley’s eyes. “Sir, I fear I cannot work for you if you are to treat me in this manner. I am not your servant, Mr Brindley. I know I am not a lady but–”

  “Forgive me. Forgive my rudeness. I was angry. I spoke out of turn.”

  “I believe that the acquisition of knowledge should be an enjoyable pursuit,” Ann explained. “When I was Christina’s age, I learned facts through discussion with my father and sisters, or out walking on the moors. The natural world is not best discovered in a textbook. And if we are to comprehend the world around us, we must first have an understanding of ourselves.”

  Ann was amazed he’d allowed her to say so much. He was watching her intently with his dark eyes. Ann had lost her train of thought. She turned her gaze from him, feeling unaccountably self-conscious. “I’m sorry Mr Brindley. I am inclined to speak my mind.”

  “That I can see,” Charles Brindley replied, with an unexpected smile. “Has Mrs Travers mentioned lunch?” he asked.

  “She said the children eat at mid-day. I’ve brought something with me. Where would you like me to take my food?”

  “You’ll eat with the children. You shall, of course, share a hot meal with them–”

  “Oh but–”

  “I’ll not hear of your doing otherwise. I’m sorry. I thought Mrs Travers would have made provisions clearer.”

  “You’re very kind Sir,” Ann said, humbly. “And I’m sorry to have offended you. I shall, of course, ensure that Christina’s conduct befits a young lady in future.”

  “Very well, Miss Rhys,” Mr Brindley said and he gestured towards the door, indicating that she was free to leave. He strode over and placed his hand on the doorknob as Ann moved towards the door. But before opening it, Charles Brindley said, “We shall, no doubt, have other differences of opinion on the methods appropriate to educate my children.”

  “I hope not, Sir,” Ann replied.

  His face was now as close to hers as it had ever been. He smiled rather awkwardly, all of his haughtiness having subsided. It was Ann who had the air of dignity leaving the room.

  Chapter 4

  During the remainder of that first week at Brizecombe, Ann saw her master only once more. Nearing the Hall on Thursday morning, Ann spied Mr Brindley emerging from the side of the house, wearing riding breeches and a tall hat. He whistled and struck his boot with his riding crop to summon his dogs, before noticing her. “Good morning Miss Rhys,” he called.

  “Good morning Sir.”

  “A very fine day,” he observed as he approached.

  “Indeed.”

  “Miss Rhys, do you walk to the Hall every morning?”

  “Yes Sir.”

  “Tell me, does it befit a lady to walk along the roads so often – and by herself?”

  “It befits a lady of my station, Sir. I have no horse.”

  He looked thoughtful.

  “And I enjoy walking,” Ann continued. “My father thinks it important that we take exercise–”

  “But if the weather is inclement?”

  “Then I walk more briskly,” Ann replied plainly.

  “Miss Rhys, would you permit me, when the weather is poor, to send a carriage to collect you from the parsonage?”

  “That’s very kind of you, Mr Brindley, but I would, most probably, have already set off.”

  “But you keep to the roads?”

  “If there is rain, yes. On days like today, I cut across the moor.”

  “In future, if the weather is bad, I will send a man, you understand?”

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Likewise, in the afternoon, a carriage will convey you home. You need only ask Mrs Travers.”

  “You are very kind Sir.”

  “And you needn’t enter by the front door of the house. Go around to the kitchen entrance and go straight in.”

  Ann looked him in the eye.

  “Please don’t misunderstand me, Miss Rhys,” he said, placing his hand on her arm. “I merely wish to spare you the inconvenience of waiting at the door. You may proceed to the kitchen entrance now, Miss Rhys.”

  “I’m afraid Sir, I don’t quite know where–”

  “Forgive me,” he said. “Let me escort you,” and he took her arm.

  They walked along the terrace in front of the house. As Ann looked out over the vast park that surrounded Brizecombe, she allowed herself the indulgence of imagining how it would feel to be the lady of the Hall. Mr Brindley directed her to the trade entrance, bade her good day and was gone.

  Chapter 5

  On Sunday morning Ann attended church with Ellen, her father’s housekeeper. Ellen expressed surprise to see Mr Brindley there with his children. “It’s usually Mrs Travers brings the young ones along,” she remarked.

  After the service, during which Ann spent most of her tim
e staring at the back of Mr Brindley’s head of thick, dark hair, imagining herself standing beside him in his family pew, she stood outside with the Reverend, greeting the parishioners as they left.

  When Mr Brindley came along Ann found herself blushing unaccountably upon his taking her hand. “Good morning, Miss Ann,” he said. “I trust you are well.”

  “Very well, thank you,” Ann replied. “We were pleased, Sir, to see you here today,” she added.

  “Perhaps I am not yet quite beyond redemption,” he whispered to her.

  When the congregation had dispersed and Ann and Ellen were returning to the parsonage to prepare lunch, Ellen remarked, “The young Brindleys have obviously taken a shine to you, Miss.”

  “I think they find me a less stern companion than their father,” Ann replied.

  “And he too,” Ellen continued, “seems to hold you in esteem.”

  Ann smiled but made no comment.

  “You wait till I write and tell Miss Jane and Miss Mariah about your adventures–”

  “Ellen, you’ll do no such thing!” Ann scolded, colouring at the thought.

  After lunch Ann accompanied the Reverend on a walk on the moors. It was a fresh, clear day and, when on the hilltops, the bracing wind was exhilarating.

  “I wanted to speak with you in private, Ann,” the Reverend began, soberly. “I’m concerned that you may be forming an attachment to Mr Brindley that goes beyond that appropriate between employee and employer.”

  “I don’t think I understand you, Father,” Ann said, taken aback.

  “I noticed this morning that you watched Mr Brindley for the majority of the service. I was particularly disturbed that you paid so little attention to my sermon–”

  “Forgive me. I was merely observing Mr Brindley’s interaction with Christina and John. It worries me that he can be so cold with those young children–”