WHITEFIELD HALL
(Novella)
“Romance with a Kiss of Suspense”
ISBN # 978-0-9885738-6-4
Copyright © 2015 Nora Covington
Published by Holland & Eyre Press
All Rights Reserved.
This book or parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means without prior written permission of the author, except as provided by United States of America copyright law.
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Work of Fiction
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Novella
Approximately 34,000 Words
Dedication
In honor of my great grandmother, Mary Gleadhell.
Born 1868 in Marylebone, London, England;
died 1936 in Manchester, England.
Sections
The Advertisement
My Arrival
The Baron’s Return
Snakes and Spiders
No Consorting
A Reprieve from Strife
Prison of Consequences
A Night in Manchester
The Wager of Life
Rescued from Abduction
Restoration of the Broken
Return to Whitefield Hall
The Spider’s Web
Vigilance in the Garden
About the Author
About the Novellas
The Advertisement
Wanted, a respectable, steady young woman about twenty-four years of age as a companion to an elderly lady. She must possess satisfactory testimonials from prior employment. The applicant should be competent, with a solid English education, social graces and possess the ability to speak French fluently. Her accomplishments should include drawing, ornamental needlework, dancing, singing, and skill in playing the harp or pianoforte. Apply between the hours of ten o’clock in the morning and two o’clock in the afternoon.
I read the advertisement at least three times while the hansom cab made its way through the streets of London to a particular address located in the Kensington district. Afraid of being one of the many ladies to seek an audience for the position, I left early to arrive promptly by ten o’clock. However, on second thought, I doubted my wisdom in doing so, fearing I would appear too eager. Since I had been unemployed for almost two months, naturally my zeal bordered on the verge of desperation. My savings dwindled precariously low, affording me only a few more months of rent at a boarding house where I lodged in a single room.
As the cab slowed, I glanced out the window gawking at the expensive residences lining the street. A flurry of excitement tightened my stomach. The carriage halted, and the driver announced our arrival.
“This is the address, miss.”
After exiting the cab, I paid the fare and turned to walk toward the door. Once again, I checked the house number with the advertisement, assuring myself I arrived at the correct location. When my foot landed on the stoop, I tugged on my walking jacket. A quick check of each button gave me confidence all was in place, saving me any embarrassment about my appearance. Confident, I gave the knocker a few hard taps and stared at the brass lion’s head daring me to enter. An elderly gentleman answered, who I immediately assumed to be a butler. He peered down at me with a disgruntled expression. In response, I calmly and succinctly announced myself.
“My name is Mary Gleadhell, and I’m here in regard to the advertisement for a companion.” I stood erect and posture perfect, even though my nerves jingled like bells from head to toe.
“You are early,” he grumbled. “It is not yet ten.”
Aware of my premature arrival, I apologized.
“Oh, I am sorry,” I said, conveying an embarrassed expression. “My watch must be
fast.” It kept time accurately. Paying no attention to my falsehood, I needed some excuse for arriving before the posted time. The butler continued to ponder my appearance and finally opened the door wide enough for me to enter.
“You may come in and wait.” His expression remained stern.
“Thank you, sir.” I stepped into a large foyer with tall ceilings and an enormous chandelier hanging above my head. A white marble floor, shiny like ice, met my black pumps. Like a little girl, I longed to sprint and slide across the surface.
“Wait here and I’ll announce your arrival.”
The butler departed down a hall to the right and disappeared. Since I am inherently curious, I glanced around the interior, taking note of the expensive décor, paintings, and a large parlor to the left. Without a doubt, I arrived at the residence of a wealthy businessman or perhaps an aristocrat. I cocked my head uncomfortably to peek into the parlor but could see little from my location. The temptation to snoop vanished at the sound of the butler’s shoes clicking on the floor, heading back in my direction. A moment later, he stopped a few feet away, set his mouth in a hard line, and spoke.
“Lord Beaumont will see you now. Follow me,” he said, giving me another scowl.
As I kept pace with his long strides, I took the opportunity to rein in my nerves. As usual, to make a good first impression, I straightened my posture. My shoulders pulled back, my chin lifted, and I recollected my finishing school teacher’s instructions on the proper way a lady should present herself. We halted in front of a double door, and the butler pushed it open leading me into the study. My eyes caught sight of a man sitting behind a large mahogany desk. He did not react to our entrance but instead kept his attention upon a piece of paper in his hand, studying its contents.
“Your lordship, Miss Gleadhell.”
The butler retreated and closed the door behind me. I gave a quick curtsy, which my prospective employer did not notice. Afterward, I stood firm, waiting for the gentleman to lift his head and acknowledge my presence. However, to my chagrin, he acted impervious to the butler’s announcement. His attention continued to remain on the paper as if it were attached to his hand. He did not even possess the courtesy to rise to his feet and greet me, as a gentleman should do when a lady enters the room.
Shocked at his lack of response, I frowned but took advantage of his pause to observe his person. At first glance, I found him pleasant to gaze upon. I surmised him to be in his midthirties, appearing lean and impeccably dressed. However, by the dark circles underneath his eyes, I wondered if he had not been sleeping well. The thick, raven-black hair upon his head appeared striking against his pale complexion. Finally, he turned his attention toward me.
“Miss Gleadhell, why don’t you have a seat,” he said, pointing the chair in front of his desk.
Irritated he still had not risen to greet me like a gentleman, I walked forward in wariness and slowly sat down. At last, he released the paper in his hand and laid it face down on his desk. His attention moved to my face and shifted elsewhere to examine my appearance. In spite of the uncomfortable scrutiny on his part, I maintained my composure and held my tongue until he engaged the conversation.
“Thank you for coming in response to my advertisement,” he began. “It is apparent by your early arrival you planned to be first in that chair.”
I found it difficult to d
iscern, by the unemotional tone of his voice or gaze in his eyes if he had made a slight jest or meant to scold me for not adhering to the time.
“I do apologize,” I replied, trying to sound contrite. “Apparently, I miscalculated the time needed to travel across town to your residence.” My second deceitful excuse had come from my mouth. Tonight I would need to spend time confessing my sins in prayer before bedtime.
“No matter,” he said. He leaned back into his chair and placed both elbows on the armrest. A second later, he clasped his hands in front of him and began a solemn recitation in a monotone voice.
“I am seeking a companion for my elderly mother because I am often away on business. I hold concerns regarding her solitude while I am absent.”
“Understandable,” I agreed, keeping my eyes upon Lord Beaumont. My mind flitted about wondering about his aristocratic title. A moment later, he began asking questions.
“I assume you read the list of extensive qualifications I seek in a young lady. Can you adequately fulfill my expectations?”
By the questioning expression on his face, it appeared he doubted my abilities at the onset. “I have, your lordship. My education consists of private tutoring where I learned to read and write. A few years ago, I graduated from finishing school and am trained in the social graces you enumerated in your advertisement.”
“And what of experience, do you possess any?”
His deep voice sounded cold as his questions continued. I sensed an impersonal air about the man that made me doubt whether the position would suit me if I had to deal with him on a daily basis. Nevertheless, my current circumstances encouraged me to put my best foot forward.
“I recently retired from a three-year position in the home of Bishop Howard as a companion to his elderly mother. She passed away two months ago.” While I felt proud of my recent situation, with expert precision and a demeaning tone, he put me in my place.
“Well, this is no home of a clergyman,” he remarked snidely. “I am the 4th Baron of Warrington, and my mother is Lady Catherine Beaumont.”
Well, that answered my question about his aristocratic standing. “It is a pleasure to meet you,” I said, lying again. Astounded over his snobbish declaration of peerage, I felt unsettled. No doubt, my experience would not be suitable for his taste. Nevertheless, my dwindling finances urged me not to give up.
“I have excellent testimonials of my skills. The bishop was kind enough to write a letter of introduction detailing my duties and accomplishments for your consideration.” I reached inside of my handbag and retrieved an envelope bearing the bishop’s seal.
“Very well, I shall consider its contents since the Bishop of London found you adequate.”
He reached forward and took the letter from my hand. I sat motionless as he read the contents. When he appeared to have finished the testimonial, I continued the conversation.
“Might I inquire is the position to be here at your residence?”
“Rarely,” he replied, perusing the letter. My primary residence, Whitefield Hall, is located in Warrington, situated between Liverpool and Manchester.”
My heart sank. “Warrington,” I repeated, disenchanted over the location.
“Do you find the locality to be problematic, Miss Gleadhell?” His eyes narrowed, apparently observing my distinct lack of joy over the whereabouts.
“No, I do not find it a problem,” I asserted, lying again. My mind performed a mental count of fibs, wondering if my latest was the third or fourth. “I am only surprised the position is so far north from London. There was no indication of relocation in your advertisement.”
“Well, if you find it inconvenient, perhaps we should dispense with the interview.” He folded the testimonial letter, inserted it back into the envelope, and shoved it across the desktop in my direction.
“I do not find it inconvenient,” I replied in a firm tone. As usual, when showing defiance, I lifted my chin. “There is a vast difference between surprise and inconvenience.” He sat for a moment pondering my statement and stared at me. I kept my composure, maintaining eye contact to show my determination. After what felt like an entire minute, he cleared his throat and continued.
“The bishop’s accolades are rather impressive. It appears his mother had grown fond of your companionship.”
“Mrs. Howard was a fine lady,” I said.
“Well, my mother may be somewhat difficult in comparison,” he replied, raising his voice. “I travel to London often for business and entertainment. She, on the other hand, is content with country life and her social acquaintances in Manchester.” He scowled and shook his head. “It is a disagreeable and filthy town, as far as I’m concerned, with rampant crime.”
“I am not familiar with the city but have read as such.” His confirmation of its reputation brought concern.
“My mother often attends affairs as well as organizing soirées and dinner parties at Whitefield Hall.” He paused for a moment, scrutinizing my appearance again. “You will be required to attend public functions, Miss Gleadhell. Your ability to present yourself with exceptional social graces is paramount. Our friends are not clergy—they are nobility.”
Another poignant reminder of his snobbery did nothing further to make him more agreeable. “I am not intimidated by the prospect of meeting your family’s acquaintances if that is your concern.” I postured myself with an air of confidence to match his own. With his insinuations that clergy were of little regard, he had failed to make a favorable impression upon me.
“I’m assuming you possess an adequate wardrobe for each occasion that may arise. You will be required to attend a variety of gatherings with my mother.”
“Yes, of course, I do.” I lied again. No doubt, the angels in heaven were weeping over my transgressions by now. If he hired me, I would need to spend my last penny on clothes suitable for the lifestyle.
“Might I inquire about some of your mother’s preferences in a companion?”
“Preferences?” He shifted in his chair and raked his fingertips through his thick hair, appearing agitated. “Well, I have yet to find a lady who pleases her, frankly. Should I hire you for the position, you will be the third in the past eighteen months.”
“The third?” How astounding and dreadful, I thought to myself. Why had she not found one to her liking? “Will I be able to meet with Lady Beaumont beforehand?”
“Absolutely not,” he replied. “I have taken the responsibility of finding her a new companion here in London. The availability of mature applicants with ample social graces has been difficult to come by in Manchester. After all, it is an industrial city and not the cultural center of England. I told Mother that London may provide a more suitable group of young ladies for her consideration.”
“Oh, I see.” I thought his reasoning to be a bit condescending. Naturally, I wondered if Lady Beaumont would be pleased with anyone from London. Nevertheless, I needed a position and wanted to continue to present my interest. Perhaps it would be an enjoyable challenge to gain her approval where others had not.
“I would be most pleased to offer my services as a companion to your mother.” I smiled with modest decorum, hoping to sway his decision. Even my eyelashes batted a few times, which I found amusing behavior on my part. He lowered his eyes and pondered for a moment, and afterward pulled out his pocket watch to glance at the time.
“I am pressured with duties that I must attend to today. Sitting here interviewing applicants until two o’clock does not appeal to me whatsoever.” He rose to his feet. “The position pays fifty pounds per annum, plus room and board, of course, at Whitefield Hall. I am willing to take a gamble on you, Miss Gleadhell, since you were so eager to apply. Will you take my offer?”
Aghast over the quick change of heart, I snatched the opportunity without further thought. “Yes, your lordship, the salary is satisfactory.” I nearly leaped from my chair and felt my nervous jitters dissipate over my accomplishment.
“Would you be able to trave
l to Whitefield Hall by the end of the week? I will purchase a train ticket for you to Manchester, where you will be met by one of my household staff and taken to my estate by carriage.”
“Yes, that is agreeable.” The thought of a paid trip, even to Manchester, held a bit of excitement.
“Good. It is settled. A morning train leaves at nine o’clock. Be packed and ready. My butler, Mr. Brown, will arrange for transportation to Paddington Station.”
I felt so relieved, that I used my good fortune to justify my earlier lies. “Thank you for this opportunity. I look forward to meeting your mother and our ensuing companionship.” He smirked at my comment.
“I will ask if you still feel the same a month from now. By then, your gracious smile may have turned into a frown,” he added.
His unusual remark gave me the impression he believed I was doomed to fail.
“My obligations remain here in London for another two weeks,” he said. “I shall return to Whitefield Hall with the hope the two of you are getting on.” He escorted me to the door and opened it wide for my exit. “Until Friday, Miss Gleadhell.”
After taking note of his dark brown eyes that showed concern, I bid goodbye with a quick curtsy. “Thank you.” Lord Beaumont’s butler stood outside the door apparently awaiting further instructions.
“I will receive no other applicants today, Percy. Should anyone else arrive, please inform them the position is filled.”
“Of course, your lordship.” He raised his brow over the unanticipated announcement.
“Miss Gleadhell has been hired and will be leaving for Whitehall Hall early Friday morning. Please arrange her transportation to Paddington Station.”
“As you wish,” he said. He turned his attention toward me. “Follow me, miss, and I will escort you out.”
After I had exited the residence, reality returned. My mind had wandered off into a grateful prayer for having obtained a situation. When I stepped outside and made my way to the sidewalk, an eager lady passed me by and headed for Lord Beaumont’s residence. Thank goodness I had taken the incentive to show up first.
Whitefield Hall: Novella Page 1
